■SKETCHES 
 
 
 OF 
 
 1
 
 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN
 
 j^Ilc OF CALIF. LIBailY, LOS kSQiSLES
 
 SKETCHES OF CANTABS.
 
 SKETCHES OF CANTABS, 
 
 BY 
 
 JOHN SMITH, (OF SMITH-HALL) 
 
 GENT. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 GEORGE EARLE, 67, CASTLE STREET EAST, 
 BEENERS STREET, OXFORD STREET 
 
 1849.
 
 LONDON: 
 G. EABLE, PKINTER, CASTLE STREET EAST, OXEOED STREET.
 
 ADDRESS TO THE READER. 
 
 It may seem almost ridiculous to prefix any 
 observations to a work of so trifling a cha- 
 racter as the one which now lies before you. 
 There is a circumstance, however, connected 
 with its production to which I cannot help 
 calling your attention, as it is one which will 
 disarm criticism, though it may not altoge- 
 ther secure your approval. 
 
 These sketches, then, — originally intended 
 for private circulation only — were written at 
 a time when the author was labouring under 
 severe mental and bodily affliction. The 
 first part, (down to the end of the ** Married 
 Cantab ") was composed whilst I was living in 
 
 I ^ ^ ^- ^''^ ' -^
 
 IV 
 
 the strictest seclusion on the Surrey side of 
 the water; the remainder at Boulogne-sur- 
 Mer, where I am still residing. It is need- 
 less to dwell upon the tyrannical Debtor and 
 Creditor regulations of a country, which I am 
 glad to hear from several French gentlemen 
 of this city, is fast going to the dogs. It will 
 be sufficient to beg the reader, in case he 
 perceive any incongruity between the parts, 
 or any glaring error, — grammatical or other- 
 vnse, — in the body of the work, to set it 
 down as the result of that anxiety and rest- 
 lessness which is naturally produced by a 
 
 constant change of abode. 
 
 257, Rue Robert Macaire, 
 
 Boulogne-sur-Mer. 
 Oct \st, 1849. 
 
 J. S.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGB. 
 
 The Reading Cantab 1 
 
 The Fast Cantab 10 
 
 The Boating Cantab 22 
 
 The Unionic Cantab 35 
 
 The Cantab fond of " London Life " 51 
 
 The Aristocratic Cantab 70 
 
 The Cantab who is in Love 83 
 
 The Married Cantab 107 
 
 The Ultra-evangelical Cantab, or " Sim" 116 
 
 The Sporting Cantab 137 
 
 The Sporting Cantab (continued) 152 
 
 A Word to the Public School Cantab 166 
 
 The Model Cantab — Description of the 
 
 Author 173
 
 THE REAmNG CANTAB. 
 
 Though I have known some indiviclaals who have 
 grown positively fat upon Pindar, and come up 
 hale and hearty after a week in the country with 
 Lucretius, still I think I am right in setting down 
 the reading man as pale and thin. Study, though 
 it may make a full man, is certainly a non-con- 
 ductor of health and corpulence. 
 
 The reading man rises at six in the morning. 
 His sleep has been feverish and distempered. The 
 inhabitant of the next room has heard frightful 
 and Aristophanic sounds coming through the par- 
 tition in the dead of night. He has been involved 
 in a terrible dance with all sorts of mathematical 
 figures, and received a personal insult from a tri- 
 angle. Examiners in caps and gowns have been 
 b
 
 2 THE HEADING CANTAB. 
 
 sitting upon his chest, and he wakes with a start 
 from a personal contest with an ancient Athenian. 
 
 The first act of the reading man, after saying 
 his prayers, will be to take down the book on which 
 he is engaged, Aristophanes for example. He nods 
 over the first page, and looking up at the window 
 sees icicles hanging to it. At length he is roused 
 by a joke which he makes out by the help of his 
 lexicon, and rubs his hands, and feels half inclined 
 to think it amusing. Engaged in this occupation 
 he hears the ringing of the chapel bell, and hud- 
 dling on his surplice walks across the court at the 
 rate of five miles an hour. When he rises from 
 his knees he is ashamed to find that lie has been 
 repeating the same line from the Ranee over and 
 over again, and catches himself in the middle of 
 the Litany dreaming of Person. 
 
 Coming out of the antc-chapel he falls in with 
 another reading friend, whom he taps on the 
 shoulder, asking him how he gets on with his 
 conies. Finally he invites him to breakfast, where 
 jam is produced to an unlimited extent. (For I 
 lay it down as a general rule that all hard-reading
 
 THE READING CANTAB. S 
 
 men are fond of jam. I once knew a very excel- 
 lent Greek scholar and Aristotelian, who perished 
 miserably in his second year, a victim to that 
 concoction). 
 
 At breakfast their conversation is of scholarships, 
 and triposes and medals. Whenever any dispute 
 arises, as to whether Jones, for instance, was fourth 
 wrangler and fifth classic, or fifth wrangler and 
 fourth classic, the Cambridge Calendar is fetched 
 down jfrom the shelf, and referred to. They relate 
 funny anecdotes to each other, which consist for 
 the most part of wrong answers in the little-go, 
 and instances of false quantities made by eminent 
 scholars. 
 
 At nine, the reading man starts off to a mathe- 
 matical lectui^e, and at ten goes to hear Tomkins 
 lecture on Plato. He is a firm believer in Tomkins, 
 and relates anecdotes of his having corresponded 
 with Hermann and Dissen at the age of ten. 
 
 He conscientiously beheves that Tomkins is 
 known all over England, and that he causes a great 
 sensation in walking down Regent Street or the 
 Strand. 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE READING CANTAB. 
 
 At eleven he rushes off to Mr. Coacher. his 
 private tutor, and from twelve to two is hard at 
 work upon his Greek ode, which must obtain (if 
 the examiners are only impartial) the Brown 
 medal. 
 
 But perhaps the reading man is seen to the 
 greatest advantage at two o'clock in the forenoon 
 when he sets off for Grantchester with a friend, in 
 a pair of Berlin wool gloves, and the tails of his 
 coat flapping in the air. He is not particular 
 about scenery, and in case it should come on to 
 rain finds out some cloister or covered yard, and 
 paces up and down in it. His theme of conver- 
 sation is the usual one, and he returns to hall with 
 the first faint streaks or early dawn of an appetite. 
 In case he be a Johnian it is not improbable that 
 he will take his " constitutional *' in a cap and 
 gown. (I once met two young gentlemen of that 
 college, eating bread and cheese in an inn at New- 
 market, after their walk. In the course of a 
 familiar conversation they infoiined me that they 
 had not got hats, and sliould not purchase them 
 till the beginning of the Long Vacation. It was
 
 THE READING CANTAB. 5 
 
 then January). After dinner, at which he eats 
 but little for fear of becoming sleepy and incapa- 
 citated for work in the evening, he goes off to the 
 friend with whom he has been walking, to indulge 
 in a biscuit and a glass of vnne, where he meets 
 one or two quiet men, some one of whom possibly 
 begins talking about " Pendennis,'' at which he 
 exclaims " Ah ! a novel, isn't it? " with supreme 
 contempt. Warming with his second glass of port, 
 (I have no objection to call it port, it being sold as 
 such) he will give you an account of how he once 
 shirked a lecture, and incensed the Junior Dean 
 by only going to seven chapels. On these occa- 
 sions it would almost seem as if he gloried in the 
 reputation for "fastness" which the recital obtains 
 for him among his companions, just as I have 
 known middle-aged men, who were amongst the 
 soberest and steadiest of their day, to exclaim "By 
 Gad Sii", I was a devil of a yoimg rake diu'ing my: 
 college career." But this feeling does not last long 
 with our reading man. As the clock strikes six, 
 he hurries off once more to his room, after carefully 
 selecting his own cap and gown from the heap, 
 B 3
 
 THE READING CANTAB. 
 
 (Nothing puts a reading man so much out, as 
 getting any one else's gown by mistake). From 
 six to ten he locks himself in, poring over his 
 books, triumphant in the solution of ingenious 
 problems, compared with which the Sphinx's was 
 only a little deduction after all ; or seeking, in a 
 fine poetic phrenzy, for a word of two shorts and 
 one long, to come in to his line. Imagination 
 unfolds her myriad pleasures to his rapt gaze. 
 Now, he is wandering with Plato through the 
 groves of Academe, (taking care however not to 
 tread on the grass-plats) now diving his hand into 
 a bag, and calculating the chances of bringing up 
 a red, or blue, or green ball. 
 
 At ten he partakes of tea, when that infernal 
 jam is again brought into requisition, and perhaps 
 an egg, if it be a festive occasion. 
 
 After his three years, he comes out as a high 
 classic, or a wrangler; takes pupils, obtains a 
 fellowshiji, and dies ultimately at an advanced age 
 in the possession of a college living, virtuous, 
 ignojant, happy and beloved. 
 
 Such is the lile of the thorough paced IvLADiKtr
 
 I THE HEADING CANTAB. 7 
 
 IVIan, and who shall say that it is after all a 
 miserable one ? You and I, my dear friend, while 
 laughing at his peculiarities, would be glad enough 
 to accomplish one half of what he has done. The 
 fruits of antiquity are sour in our estimation only 
 because we have been unable to reach them. 
 
 But before we take leave of the reading man, 
 there are one or two more characteristic traits 
 which we shall do well to notice. He seldom reads 
 an English work, and of the history of his native 
 country is strangely, almost supernaturally, igno- 
 rant. Passing occurrences do not affect him. He 
 doesn't care how many men are slaughtered on the 
 banks of the Jhelum. His heart is at Marathon, 
 his sympathies with the gallant Hannibal at Canna). 
 The fields with which he is best acquainted are 
 not battle fields, but rectangular ones with mathe- 
 matical properties, through which he fights his 
 \vay to a solution over the carcases of x's and y's. 
 Beautiful landscapes fail to delight him. He looks 
 upon hills, and valleys, and rivers, as interesting 
 or otherwise, according to their capabilities of
 
 8 THE READING CANTAB. 
 
 furnisliing a sum. Of coui^se I must be understood 
 to speak of mathematical reading men. 
 
 And, apropos to this, I can tell the beloved 
 purchaser an anecdote for the truth of which I will 
 vouch. The Eev. Mr. G., Senior Wrangler of his 
 year, and Fellow of St. John's College, went some 
 time ago with a reading party into Wales. On 
 his retiu^n a friend asked him if he had visited 
 Snowdon. " Snowdon ! " he replied, " what is 
 that?" "Why the great mountain; don't you 
 know ? " " Oh ! ah ! yes to be sure, so it is," 
 said he, " Why no ; the fact is we had a little hill 
 behind the house where we were lodging, quite 
 high enough for all practical purposes.^'' 
 
 The worthy Senior Wrangler did not conceive 
 it possible that a man should inspect a mountain 
 with any other intention than that of taking its 
 altitude. 
 
 Another peculiarity connected with most reading 
 men is, that when they do take a holiday, they 
 take it with a vengeance. One friend of mine, 
 for instance, sets apart a Aveck in every term for
 
 , THE READING CANTAB. 9 
 
 recreation, during Avliicli he may be seen at dis- 
 tances varying from fifteen to twenty miles from 
 Cambridge, in a velocipede, perspiring at every 
 pore. A second indulges in a ride every now and 
 then, retiu'ning home covered with mud, but jovial. 
 A third makes his holidays to tally with Jullien's 
 masquerade nights, and never, oh never, can I 
 forget seeing my friend, one of the most prim and 
 staid of mortals, descend in chain armour from a 
 Hansom's cab. He was accompanied by a demon 
 (afterwards a high wi'angler) from a small college. 
 But enough has been said of the reading man. 
 Let us laugh at him by all means, — but let us 
 entertain for him at the same time that respect to 
 which his untiring energy, and generally blame- 
 less conduct, fully entitle him.
 
 10 
 
 THE FAST CANTAB. 
 
 Diametrically opposed to the individual of whom 
 we have just been treating is the fast man, or 
 undergraduate " up to a thing or to." Yet, so 
 hateful has this term "fast" become, that even 
 the fastest of the fast repudiate it with scorn, 
 refusing to be called by so obnoxious an epithet. 
 " Dam'me Sir," says little Snuffle to me the other 
 day, " I wouldn't have such a reputation as that 
 signifies, for all the world" ; and about three hours 
 afterwards I saw Snuffle led in between two gyps, 
 with a face corked like Othello's in private thea- 
 tricals, and the claws of lobsters sticking out of 
 his waistcoat pockets. 
 
 The fast man usually rises at a late hour. His 
 slumbers have been possibly somewhat disturbed
 
 THE FAST CANTAB. 11 
 
 by duns, but he has not got out of bed on that 
 account, contentmghmiself with throwing boots at 
 them. He has a strong sensation of rum-punch 
 in his mouth, and generally a recollection of having 
 made a fool of himself, over-night. He accordingly 
 absorbs pale ale, which cheers him; and after 
 vainly attempting to pick the wing of a chicken, 
 sits down to his " Belts LijeP At about half-past 
 one, three or four jovial spirits drop in to see if 
 there is any " lunch or breakfast, or whatever you 
 call it," going forward. They fight for the remain- 
 ing leg of the fowl, until one more nimble than 
 the rest carries it off on the top of his fork ; the 
 remainder content themselves with scraps of food 
 and potted meats. After their meal they draw 
 round the fire, taking down the meerchaums from 
 the wall, and vociferating for more beer. You see 
 their dull, blood-shot eyes leering through the 
 glass bottom of the pewter, as they pass it round 
 till the last drop is drained. Perhaps some gentle- 
 man may require liquor of a more stimulating 
 description, in which case the kettle is put upon 
 the fire, and the brandy-bottle and whisky-bottle
 
 12 THE FAST CANTAB. 
 
 produced. He stirs about the mixture with the 
 handle of his fork, and glances admiringly at his 
 diamond ring (price £5. 12s. 6d. credit; indeed 
 the only articles which this class of gentry ever 
 pay for, on the spot, are their OAvn excesses. For 
 these they pay dearly indeed.) 
 
 About this time the conversation grows languid, 
 and has to be supported by oaths, and recherche 
 expressions. The old bed-maker clears away the 
 things, and huiTies out of the room as fast as she 
 can. She is an honest woman, the mother of an 
 honest family, but they do not much reypect her 
 feelings, as indeed how should they ? "aS'/zc don't 
 care, dam'me, she's used to it. Good God ! you 
 don't suppose those sort of people care what you 
 say ? '' exclaims Higgins, who is himself the son of 
 a retired oilman, " Besides, if she did, I'd precious 
 soon show her what's what." After this a ride 
 across the country is proposed, and three of them 
 sally forth elate at being seen by their friends on 
 the tops of horses, but perhaps on the whole un- 
 comfortable. The amusement for the most part 
 consists in galloping violently over wheat and seeds.
 
 THE FAST CAJs'TAE. 13 
 
 and turning back again into the road where there 
 is no gap visible. Sometimes indeed — but let us 
 drop a curtain over this part of the aiFair. Did 
 you ever see Wright in the character of a cockney, 
 compelled to fight a duel against his will ? Well, 
 I too have seen a would-be sportsman, riding 
 at a two foot ditch. I have seen this, I say ; but 
 his pallor, his agony, the situation of his legs on 
 coming down, the unnatural elevation of . . , 
 who shall describe it ? 
 
 It entirely depends upon circumstances whether 
 the fast man dines in the hall of his college or 
 not. Should he do so, he has in general partaken 
 of breakfast much too lately, and drunk a great 
 deal too many glasses of brandy and water to have 
 an appetite. Swearing at the waiters, flipping- 
 bread into the eyes of his neighbour, and relating 
 in a loud tone his choice adventm-es to the disgust 
 of any sensible man who may happen to sit near 
 him; these are generally his employments during 
 that festive period. I know many fast men who 
 deem it " low " to be seen in hall. They prefer 
 getting the same things at an inn, or sponging 
 c
 
 14 THE FAST CANTAB, 
 
 upon their acquaintance for a meal. Well, every 
 one to his taste. 
 
 The fast man at length departs to his wtne, 
 (and " Thank God for it ! " exclaims the sensible 
 person above alluded to, who eats his pudding in 
 peace.) I repeat it, and with the same tremendous 
 emphasis, — to his wine. 
 
 If I were a lofty genius, and a transcendant 
 writer, such as our own immortal Shakespere, for 
 instance, or Mr. Albert Smith; if I united the 
 knowledge of human nature of a Dickens with the 
 critical powers of a Lester ; the humour of Thac- 
 keray with the chaste and lucid style of Whewell, 
 then and then only could I do justice to those 
 horrible and pernicious assemblies denominated 
 wine parties. I would enter on a crusade against 
 them. I would be Sir Charles Napier, and they 
 should be my Scinde. I would come in like a 
 simoon of the Desert, or stand behind the guests 
 as an Egyptian skeleton, and frighten them from 
 their unhallowed banquet. But, alas ! non omnia 
 possiimiis omnes. I suppose the same thing will 
 go on to the end of the chapter — our grandsons
 
 THE FAST CANTAB. 15 
 
 will sit round a table, and smoke, and di'ink fine 
 old crusted at thirty-two, and lie frightfully, just 
 like their forefathers. Fancy four and twenty 
 freshmen (for it is amongst freshmen that the 
 mania for the most part obtains) — ^fancy, I say, 
 four and twenty freshmen, about three of whom 
 have been in the habit of drinking more than 
 three glasses at home, sitting altogether in a long 
 room, flushed with relating their own adventures, 
 gorged with feeding, blind with tobacco-smoke, 
 and drunk with decoction of bark, and red-lead. 
 
 Fancy their conversation; their vapid, un- 
 meaning jokes; their anathemas against their 
 tutor, and dean, and lecturer, and every one who 
 has authority over them; their recital of their 
 own adventures, the stone walls at which they 
 have ridden, the policemen and partridges they 
 have brought down, the lamps they have broken, 
 the lovely women of real respectability and high 
 connexions who have smiled at their addi'esses, 
 the absence of all end and purpose from their 
 talk, the banishment of all truly delightful and 
 agreeable topics, voted " slow," the ill-suppressed 
 c 2
 
 16 THE FAST CANTAB. 
 
 isoeer at religion, and contempt for everything but 
 tlieir own inane pursuits. Fancy all this and a 
 great deal more, oh beloved reader, and you will 
 have some idea of what a fast wine-party must be. 
 From this scene of social enjoyment to which 
 our youth are addicted, the fast man hurries oiF to 
 chapel with curses both loud and deep. He comes 
 in very late with his surplice unbuttoned, and 
 holds his prayer book upside down. Who has not 
 beheld those flushed cheeks, that dishevelled head 
 of hair, those vinous eyes beaming upon him from 
 an opposite bench? After chapel, there arc a 
 variety of choice and intellectual amusements in 
 which the fast man may indulge. There are his 
 billiards, his whist, his soirees at the " Emperor's 
 Head," with ostlers, and horse-dealers and black- 
 legs. There is his walk up and down the King's 
 Parade of a Sunday Evening, his unlimited loo, 
 &c. &c., the whole to top up with that glorious 
 supper at which he sings so many songs, and 
 remembers next morning to have aimed a potatoe 
 at the nose of his entertainer. And, pretty much 
 in this way does the fast man go on from day to
 
 THE FAST CANTAB. 17 
 
 day, going to bed or being carried there, at three, 
 and rising at twelve. He hates the University, as 
 a matter of course, longing for the time, as he 
 tells you, when he is to get out into the world. 
 To remain for any length of time by himself would 
 be about as insupportable to him as to have to 
 read a paper which was not " Bell's Life," or a 
 novel ^vithout a seduction in it. He accordingly 
 frequents large and tumultuous assemblies of his 
 fellow-students, where the drink is champagne, and 
 the play high, not reflecting that he will have to 
 grudge himself a penny in after-life, and be 
 content with swipes. 
 
 I confess that there is no sight so painful to me 
 as that of the son of a highly respectable country 
 clergyman with a large family and an income of 
 five hundred a year, or perhaps six at the outside, 
 cutting cards for half sovereigns, or betting in 
 " ponies " on the next Derby and St. Leger. And 
 yet, have not sonie of our most illustrious dandies 
 and exquisites been men of this sort ? Have they 
 not been looked upon with greater respect and 
 admii'ation than mere virtue and talent could 
 c 3
 
 IS THE FAST CANTAB. 
 
 commaud? But I am growing sentimental. This 
 will never do. It would be of course absurd to 
 lay it down that the fast man is always plucked 
 for his little-go, because, just as you may occasion- 
 ally pick out a subordinate minister who is neither 
 a Grey, nor an Elliot, so also in the midst of these 
 ninnies you will every now and then light upon a 
 clever man. Yet, it cannot be denied that of the 
 number who annually fail at this examination, a 
 large proportion belong to the class whom we are 
 attempting to describe. It is curious to witness 
 the effect which the approach of that epoch in his 
 life produces on the habits of the fast man. For a 
 whole term he repairs to a " coach " from whom 
 he expects to gain a thorough knowledge of Paley. 
 He secludes himself from the haunts of men. 
 After vain attempts to comprehend the first chapter 
 he learns it off by rote, and in the senate house 
 answers every question wrong. It is not uncommon 
 to hear from a young gentleman, who confesses 
 that he cannot understand one word of Paley 's 
 evidences, that he is going to the bar, and that he 
 hopes to succeed there too ! " Do you really suppose
 
 THE FAST CANTAB. 19 
 
 there's any law-book harder than that " he cries 
 " blow it, I don't believe you." 
 
 I remember an acquaintance of mine of this sort, 
 once going into an examination where he was 
 requested to draw a map of Judasa, marking the 
 principal localities. The following was, as nearly 
 as possible, the result of his labors. 
 
 * This is the place, where the man fell among thieves. 
 
 To describe all the follies, and wickednesses of 
 fast men, whether in the University, or the great 
 world itself, would require the application of a 
 whole life time. Methuselah or old Parr might 
 have devoted a spare half century or so, to tlie 
 work, but even then it would have been miserably
 
 20 THE FAST CANTAB. 
 
 incomplete. No living man could accomplish 
 such a thing. Mr. G. P. R. James himself, 
 couldn't do it. 
 
 For the time would fail me to tell of the tattered 
 gowns and broken caps, the resplendent jewellery, 
 the false taste, the heavy over-coats with saucer 
 buttons, the pea green cut-aways, and tulip bearing 
 stocks, with which this class of characters delight 
 to adorn their persons; the opera-dancers who 
 smirk upon you from the walls of their apartments, 
 the sportsmen in full cry over the mantel-piece, 
 the select French prints which are taken down on 
 the night before the expected visit from Mamma, 
 and replaced by portraits of Niebuhr, and Hermann, 
 and Tomkins, and other great historical scholars, 
 the shifts and manoeuvres to evade duns, the call of 
 the proctor's man for that six and eight pence, the 
 contempt for study, the soda water, the obscene 
 jest, the blasphemous story — but hold! any man 
 who takes the trouble to think might go on for 
 ever harping upon the peculiarities of the flist man. 
 We have said enough. 
 
 May it be the proud boabt of oiu' great grand-
 
 THE FAST CANTAB. 21 
 
 sons — I don't say that it will be, but only 7nay it 
 be their boast — that when one of them in the year 
 Anno Domini 194:9, took up the pen to write 
 *' Sketches of Undergraduates " after the model of 
 that famous work, published just a century before, 
 he was unable to introduce the " fast man " into 
 his volume, simply because no such character was 
 in existence. He looked for one, just as we look 
 for stage coaches, but found him not. I can fancy 
 a passage occurring in the preface, as follows : 
 
 " It sems Strang " (fonetic writing of some 
 kind or other will have come into vogiie in that 
 day) " that in Inking at an old buk wich has 
 cum into mi hands, called ' Sketches of Under- 
 graduates in 1849,' I notiss the introduxion ov a 
 paper on ' fast men.' 
 
 " From the desoripshun he must hav ben a 
 cm'ious being ; fortunateli for us nun such exists 
 now. He has past awa, like Kapital Punishment, 
 and the Paliss Cort, and Onorary Degrese, the 
 relics of a dare and barberus age." 
 
 May such be the easel That's all I can say.
 
 22 
 
 THE BOATING CANTAB. 
 
 I hold the boating man to be one of the most 
 nauseous specimens of undergraduate life that it will 
 be my misfortune to have to submit to the reader. 
 Of course, when I say this I do not allude to those 
 who, indulging moderately in aquatic amusements, 
 derive health as well as pleasure from the pm^suit, 
 but rather to that body of men (not a small one, I 
 am sorry to say,) the object of whose life appears 
 then only to have been permanently attained, when 
 they have succeeded in placing their crew at what 
 they call " the head of the river." We have all 
 of us heard life compared to a race, but that is no 
 reason why it should be made a boat-race of 
 throughout. 
 
 The thorough-paced boating undergraduate 
 begins to feel existence sweet when the time for
 
 THE BOATING OANTAT?. 23 
 
 the " pair-oars " and " sculls " comes on. Ilis first 
 act will most probably be to purchase (in common 
 with the' sporting undergraduate of whom I intend 
 to treat shortly) a small blank book in which 
 to register his bets. About this period also, a new 
 pair of club pantaloons will become necessary with 
 sundry other articles, not to speak of a few fancy 
 shirts with red and blue boats floating on the waves 
 of calico. Thus accoutred he takes his stand upon 
 the steps of Trinity, and feels that life has indeed 
 set in. 
 
 Perhaps it may be expected of me that I should 
 give in this place some account of the mysteries of 
 training. But this is a subject on which I feel 
 myself incompetent to speak. I am in the habit 
 of eating vegetables all the year round, and most 
 commonly of taking a cigar after my dinner. I 
 have at present no symptoms of a heart-complaint ; 
 I can sit down upon a chair without first putting a 
 pillow under me, and if I were to prick my finger 
 in any part with a pin, blood would come out, 
 and not water. It is consequently not in ray 
 power to speak from experience. But I have heard
 
 24 THE BOATING CANTAB. 
 
 of some pleasures that are so exquisite, that they 
 can hardly at times be distinguished from pain. I 
 am inclined to put down training as one of these 
 exquisite pleasures. 
 
 And, indeed my knowledge of the boating 
 undergraduate when engaged in the active pursuit 
 of his profession, is altogether so small, that I don't 
 know whether it would not be better simply to 
 give a short account of a scene which I once saw 
 on the noble Cam, in company with an aquatic 
 friend. It was in those ever memorable days 
 when St. John's and Trinity were contending 
 for the first place, that we sallied out of the noble 
 gateway of our college, on one fine evening of 
 May. Streams of young gentlemen (some in 
 flannel trousers and bundles under their arms, 
 others with flags, others in the black cloth panta- 
 loons, and blue stockings of every-day Johnian 
 costume) were pouring down to the appointed 
 place, reminding me of Newgate Street on the 
 morning of a favorite execution. Arrived at a 
 jutting promontory opposite the village of Ches- 
 terton, we were ferried across for the sum of one
 
 THE BOATING CATSTTATl, 25 
 
 penny, and a brisk walk through the assembling 
 crowd brought us to the neighbourhood of the 
 " Plough Inn," where I could see young gentlemen 
 descending from their horses in the midst of a 
 galaxy of female beauty. I was employed in 
 listening to the details of an adventure at whist 
 which somebody was relating to his friend across 
 the water, when my attention was distracted hy 
 the appearance of three gallant barks, manned, by 
 stalwart and perspiring figures, whose bare arms 
 and athletic chests glistened in the sunshine. 
 They paused for a moment to perform the mystic 
 ceremony of taking down their flags (blue with 
 cameleopard's head growing out of a gothic turret 
 for the crest; simple green; and vermilion gar- 
 nished with stars) and then at the question " are 
 you ready? " put to them by the coxswain, expressed 
 themselves in the affirmative, by dashing their 
 oars through the water at a frightful pace. 
 
 This was exciting enough in all conscience, but 
 after a while we had some more, and then some 
 more still, till I began to wonder where they all 
 came from, and whether the river didn't run round
 
 26 THE BOATING CANTAB. 
 
 in a circle, so that I was seeing the same crews 
 over again, like the procession of two hundred 
 and fifty armed men in the infantine theatres. As 
 soon as this thought occurred to me, I determined 
 to watch the next bark narrowly, so as to guard 
 against the possibility of imposition. However, 
 no more hove in sight, but an enormous machine 
 made its appearance, towed by horses, and to look 
 at, something between Noah's ark and the Spanish 
 man of war — of the time of the armada. From 
 this wooden leviathan about fifty young gentlemen 
 came down, and the sound of their bets, and the 
 odour of their cabbage leaves, swept together along 
 the evening breeze. Frantic men with dishevelled 
 hair sculled up in miraculously small out-riggers, 
 and mooring them to the " Plough " opposite, 
 came over in a punt, prepared to run panting, 
 shirtless, and dirty, along-side of the contending 
 boats, and cheer their friends with bare, out- 
 stretched arms and frantic yells. 
 
 About this time my aquatic mentor, who is of a 
 more sanguine temperament than myself, and who 
 besides had various shillings and half-crowns
 
 THE BOATING CANTAB. 27 
 
 depending upon the issue of the struggle, begged 
 me to move from the place where we were stand- 
 ing, and accompany him to the starting post. 
 
 " What's the use of that?" I replied " I would 
 much sooner see them in full swing. Besides 
 which are we not opposite the 'Plough,' where 
 I can observe the aristocracy of Cambridge? No, 
 I should prefer not to move." 
 
 " Do as you like " he replied " but you will 
 not be able to keep that position, I warn you." 
 
 " Why not " said I, but he was off like a 
 whirlwind, and I was left alone in my new pepper 
 and salt cutaway and pink joinville to brave the 
 stare of the passers by. Suddenly a gun was fired 
 oiF — it was succeeded after a short pause by a 
 second — and finally a third report. The change 
 which took place in the disposition of the groups 
 on all sides, now convinced me that the great 
 event of the day was about to come off. Nowhere 
 was this change so apparent as at the " Plough " 
 over the water (I love the Plough). The vacant 
 faces that had been gazing out of the bow-window 
 at the end of theii^ pipes, now beamed upon the 
 D 2
 
 28 THE BOATING CANTAB, 
 
 liiwn; reading men tossed off their lemonade, and 
 coquettes laid down their half and half. Every 
 one thronged to the river's edge; even the dogs 
 partook of the general excitement, and left oiF 
 fighting to look from between their masters' legs 
 in the direction from which the boats were expected. 
 It is impossible not to acknowledge that my 
 senses partook of this universal delirium. I too 
 gazed towards the same quarter as the men, and 
 the women, and the dogs, and presently a sound as 
 of the roaring of many voices, and the scufiling of 
 many feet smote upon mine ear. At the same 
 time I beheld my own boat, the boat of my own 
 college, the boat of my own club, di'awing round 
 the distant point (I don't know what you call it) 
 first, still first! My loyal heart thumped against 
 my bosom. I was no longer myself, I was in- 
 toxicated, wild with joy! — If you had put me on a 
 horse at that instant I could have ridden him at a 
 ditch! But suddenly my attention was withdrawn 
 from the victorious craft, wherein rested my hopes 
 and fears, to an enormous multitude who were 
 rapidly approaching the spot whereon I stood, in
 
 THE BOATING CANTAB. 29 
 
 the narrow towing path which skirts the river, and 
 from which there is no mode of egress, but the 
 majestic Cam in front, and a scarcely less extensive 
 ditch in the rear. 
 
 Shall I confess to having experienced a sen- 
 sation of fear? Yes, it will be as well, for I did. 
 I am a corpnlent person, and I saw that I should be 
 borne down by that great crowd without a straw 
 to cling to, without a hope of salvation. 
 
 Under these circumstances, Mr. Harrison Ains- 
 WORTH himself, though rendered familiar by his 
 own novels with situations of peril, might have 
 been excused for trembling. Ah! I wish I had 
 his fine pen to describe my sensations. In that 
 brief moment I recalled to mind all the instances I 
 had heard of persons being trampled to death by 
 an infuriate mob. 
 
 I addi'essed myself to flight. I had full fifty 
 yards' start, and might hope to distance them yet. 
 I turned my back accordingly upon the boats, the 
 multitude and every thing else, and set off at the 
 rate of seven miles an horn-. But alas it was in 
 vain! Louder and louder came the cries from 
 D 3
 
 30 THE BOATING CANTAB. 
 
 behind me, nearer and nearer the footsteps, and 
 turning round my head I discovered to my dismay 
 that full twenty half-naked figures brandishing 
 their fists, and yooping like Indians, were upon my 
 heels. I could see their great unbrushed heads of 
 hair gleaming like crests, in the sunshine. I could 
 mark their raw, blistered hands and hirsute arms 
 outspread in the evening air. It seemed like some 
 horrible rite. The scene swam before me. A 
 shove, a kick, and a round oath, and I felt myself 
 going neck and crop into the waters of the gigantic 
 river. 
 
 When I awoke I found myself sitting on the 
 damp bank, under the care of my friend, who was 
 putting the lighted end of a cigar in my mouth to 
 revive me, and calling me a fool. Since that awful 
 day I have not revisited the boats. 
 
 I have however met the boating man in society, 
 and am able to a certain extent to speak to his 
 character when off duty. On these occasions I 
 have found him affable and courteous towards 
 those who do not know so much as himself. His 
 conversation is of bumping, and fouling, and out-
 
 TUE BOATING CANTAB. 31 
 
 riggers, and Combe, and Grassey, but he will 
 explain to you the rudiments of the science in an 
 intelligible and familiar way, " cutting a crab " 
 says he " is this — suppose this butter is water, 
 and my knife the oar. Well you see, &c. '' If he 
 be of a waggish turn, he will sometimes insert 
 a notice in " Bell's Life " to the effect that an 
 eight-oared match has just taken place between 
 Mr. W. Wliewell's and Mr. W. H. Thompson's 
 crews, the fiin of which other boating men having 
 found out, laugh. The greatest men in the world 
 he considers to be Rollocks, who pulled so 
 wonderfully that year in the Oxford v. Cambridge, 
 and Cocky, whose choice songs and comic sayings 
 are the delight of his club. Indeed I have heard 
 that these gentlemen are feted and petted, and 
 looked up to in their own society, just as much as 
 we should look up to Rogers or Macaulay. And 
 so they are — the Rogers and Macaulay of their 
 own staircase. For who has not read that 
 beautiful piece of English composition by the one 
 entitled " Address to the Members of the Trinity
 
 32 THE BOATING CANTAE. 
 
 (4tli) on having a new club boat built,'' and that 
 touching ballad by the other, which, as every 
 reader may not chance to possess a copy, I will 
 take the liberty of appending whole. 
 
 You may sing of the joys of the gun and the bat, 
 
 Of winging a bird as he flies Sir, 
 Of hunting the hare-skin, (i) and running the rat, 
 
 And fighting a cock without eyes Sir, (2) 
 You may tell the sweet raptures of courting a lass. 
 
 And shooting a bolt from love's quiver. 
 But what in the world can those pleasures surpass. 
 
 That we boating gents find on the river? 
 
 Tol de diddle tol lol, &c. 
 
 When the Chapel bell tolls, as the herald of day. 
 And bright Fhoibus exhibits his noddle, 
 
 (1) An allnsion, probably, to Drag-hunting. 
 
 (2) It was some time before I found out the meaning of 
 this line ; after hearing the above song however, I Avas induced 
 to visit a cock -pit, patronized by a few of the leading members 
 of the University, wliere I enjoyed tlae privilege of seeing one 
 of tliose noble birds fight for upAvards of twenty minutes, 
 with both his eyes out! His owner refused to take him up, 
 on account of his opponent being so despei-ately wounded, 
 that there ai)pearcd some chance of his winning the battle yet.
 
 THE BOATING CANTAB. 33 
 
 And the mists of the night are all clearing away, 
 To the " Piece " (i) in our gi-eat-coats we toddle, 
 
 When to keep up our wind three times roimd it we run, 
 And return with a pam in the liver, 
 
 But what does it matter, my boys, when there's fun 
 To be found every night on the river? 
 
 Then there's breakfast you know, where stale bread's 
 all the go, 
 
 With beef- steaks as raw as my hand Sii*s, 
 And cigars were forbid 'cause they make us to blow, 
 
 And the nymphs 'cause they keep us on land Sirs ; 
 Next our blisters we scrub with the ointment they dub, 
 
 Dr. Holloway's sweet " Solace-giver," 
 But what though it pain us — aye there is the rub, 
 
 When it's all for the sake of the river? 
 
 (2) At length comes the night, fraught with joy and 
 Of the races — By Jove it's like heaven, [delight 
 
 (1) For the information of those who have not enjoyed a 
 College education, it may be well to state that by this term 
 is designated " Parker's Piece " — an enclosed piece of ground, 
 celebrated as the training place for aquatic gentlemen. 
 
 (2) There is a slight change of rythm in this and the 
 following stanza. But the chief beauty of boating songs is 
 supposed to consist in their departure from all metrical 
 inxles and canons.
 
 34 THE BOATING CANTAB. 
 
 With the men at the Plough, calling out " Go it bow," 
 And the men on the path " Go it seven!" 
 
 Then awaiting the gun, that announces the fun 
 For an hour in our jerseys we shiver, 
 
 And " Two," a young fool, that has scarcely left school? 
 Cries " can this be the fun of the river? " 
 
 Hark the gun has gone thrice, and now off in a trice, 
 
 With the Johnians we're soon on a level. 
 When Hicks whose no dab with his oar cuts a crab, 
 
 And our coxswain he swears like the devil. 
 Still we gain Sirs, we gain! now we've bumped them 'tis 
 
 How our hearts with excitement they quiver ! [plain, 
 And we'll wap that young Hicks, since he might 
 
 Have lost us a place on the river! [by his tricks, 
 
 I have heard songs very much like the above, 
 spoken of as " d — d clever, written by the fellow 
 himself, upon my word and honor," but those who 
 wish to hear more of the same kind, will have to 
 frequent more often than the writer of this little 
 book has found it agreeable to do, the Supper- 
 parties of the Boating Undergraduate.
 
 35 
 
 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 
 
 I suppose that a great number of my Trinity 
 friends have at one time or another belonged to tlie 
 Union Society. We all of us recollect the 
 eagerness with which in our first week at college 
 we hurried up to the rooms of that great club to 
 get our names entered by a friend; how we 
 wandered round and round its spacious library, 
 taking do^vn deep and historical works with the 
 firm intention of reading them ; with what a sense 
 of our position we stirred the fire ; Avith what an 
 eager gaze we stood entranced before the list of 
 orators who had argued on some knotty point, 
 puzzling to the politicians of Europe, it may be, for 
 many years ; but now at length happily decided by 
 a vast majority in our debate of Tuesday night. 
 With what admiratipn did we listen to the graceful
 
 36 THE uNioNic ca:ntab. 
 
 and fluent Gorgon, when he told us that the repeal 
 of the Corn Laws was a deadly blow aimed at our 
 beloved Church ; then again how our blood boiled 
 with enthusiasm, when the illustrious Tinkler 
 called upon us to rise as one undergraduate, in 
 defence of the charter; or can any one who was 
 present forget the tears which were shed, when 
 Salomons, in the kindest, and most disinterested 
 way, called our attention to the sufferings of the 
 Jews ? Alas! for very many of us, all these 
 things have passed away. We never enter that 
 long room now, or if we do, it is only to read the 
 Newspaper. We suffer ourselves to be excluded 
 the use of the library, or see our names posted up 
 as no longer members of the club, every morning, 
 as we go in. Debates we leave entirely to the 
 freshmen, or write letters while they are being held. 
 We should snore under Gorgon; we should laugh 
 at little Tinkler as he lisps out " If I were the 
 Government, I would weform these wadical cow- 
 wuptions " ; even the eloquence of Salomons might 
 strike ill-constituted minds as prosy. 
 
 But notwithstandinn: this fallincr off in our
 
 THE ITNIONTC CANTAB. 37 
 
 ardour, I remark that there are some men who be- 
 taking themselves to public life, on the first day of 
 their entrance into this seat of learning, never, if I 
 may so speak, retire into privacy till their assump- 
 tion of the bachelor's gown. These are the men 
 whose names are for ever figuring before us, on the 
 lists, who discourse on all questions, legal, political, 
 poetical, historical, or metaphysical, who sit on 
 debate nights at small tables, with glasses of water 
 before them, and whisper mysteriously to the 
 president, once in every five minutes — these are 
 the individuals whom I shall take the liberty 
 of calling, for want of a better name the Unionic 
 Undergraduates. 
 
 The Unionic Undergraduate then, will be found 
 early on Tuesday morning surrounded by books 
 and newspapers, in order the more effectually 
 to get up his subject. "Excuse me, my boy" says 
 lie, as you enter, " but you see, we have the great 
 debate on the Irish church to-night, and of course 
 it won't do for me to be deficient in the minutest 
 particular. By the bye, as you are come in, do 
 you happen to know in what reign Ireland wa^
 
 38 THE UNION^IC CANTAB. 
 
 conquered ?" I once remember being asked this 
 question, and the result of my reply came out in 
 the form of a sentence in my friend s speech. 
 " Ireland, as every honorable gentleman now 
 present of course knows, was first subdued by the 
 wily Eichard the Third, though its final and entire 
 subjugation must be referred to the successive 
 efforts of Edward the Fourth, Edward the Sixth, 
 and last not least the lawless tyrant Henry." 
 
 The Unionic Undergraduate is moreover for 
 ever boring you, when you meet him in society, 
 with his political views. He dreads the irruption 
 of a Tartar tribe from the Caucasus, and knows 
 what foreign countries have, and what have not 
 had Constitutions. Matters at home he views, of 
 course, according to his own private bias. If he 
 be a Eadical, he will most probably quote Cobden, 
 if a Protectionist, D' Israeli, if a young man of 
 unsettled views and altogether weak intellect, 
 Inglis. If it is not politics that he is constantly 
 dinning into your ears, it is something about the 
 library committee, on which he sits. He wants 
 you to give him your vote for somebody. He
 
 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 39 
 
 longs to establish a Politico-Economical Club, or 
 Mediseval Society, as the case may be, and invites 
 you to become a member. Sometimes you will 
 see him bending over a file of old newspapers in 
 the Reading Room, to copy down verbatim a speech 
 of Peel's or Russell's in the year '27. When you 
 come upon him so employed, he will crumple up 
 the paper in his hand, and tell you that he is 
 looking out for an account of the earthquake 
 which happened about that time, at Trincomalee. 
 Talking of this reminds me of the discomfiture of 
 my friend Pocock, who liu-ed me to the club one 
 night under the promise that I should hear him 
 speak. He was sitting very comfortably, an- 
 ticipating the time when he should astonish the 
 house by his oratory, and gathering up his blue 
 gown into festoons to hang down from his arm, 
 after the most approved statues of the late Mr. 
 Pitt. At length when the appropriate time arrived, 
 he arose to speak, but alas! he had not perceived 
 that FiGGiNS had risen at the same moment — and 
 the cries for Figgins were loud and general. He 
 accordingly sat down, determined to follow next 
 E 2
 
 40 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 
 
 after Figgins, and deliver his long-thought of 
 speech to a delighted audience. 
 
 But we are the playthings of fate. That speech 
 was never delivered. After a few sentences had 
 fallen from the mouth of the orator in possession 
 of the house, my unfortunate friend turned sud- 
 denly pale, and grasping my arm exclaimed " Come 
 along, it's all over." " Is it," says I, rousing my- 
 self after an effort, " Well then, go on with yours." 
 " No — no — no — that's not what I mean" he replied, 
 " I shall not speak — I feel faint — I want to go." 
 And to my astonishment, he hurried me out of the 
 room. 
 
 It was not till I had given this unhappy young 
 man two cups of tea, with buttered toast (of which 
 he is particularly fond) to match, that he was 
 enabled to inform me of the extent of his misfor- 
 tune. It then appeared from his incoherent state- 
 ments that the speech which he was about to deliver, 
 had been copied by him out of the Morning Adver- 
 tize!' for 1809, and that the miscreant Figgins must 
 have, by some means or other, obtained access to 
 the same ne\vspa[yej-, and forestalled him. Pocock 
 after this retired into private life, and has never
 
 THE UNIONIC CAXTAB. 41 
 
 since been heard to speak at the Union Society's 
 debates. 
 
 And with regard to these same debates, I think 
 that if any one will take the trouble of sitting out 
 one of them, he will be astonished at the extra- 
 ordinary character of the speeches delivered. I 
 will own that they have sometimes astonished me. 
 It always strikes me that the orators who are most 
 attended to are those who rave about the " glorious 
 constitution," the " invulnerable church," and so 
 forth, on the one side, and the fiery demagogues, 
 who clamour for liberty of conscience, on the other. 
 As for knowing anything more about the subject 
 when you leave the room than when you came into 
 it, that is out of the question. The sober, steady, 
 seedy fellows from John's and Christ's, whom I am 
 most anxious to hear, who appear to have read up 
 the whole subject during the week, and to be really 
 capable of giving information as to facts — these 
 misguided men are, I say, invariably coughed 
 down and growled back again into their seats. 
 But perhaps it is for the best. 
 
 ****** 
 E 3
 
 42 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 
 
 I had got thus far last night, and was preparing 
 to lock up the rum-bottle and retire to rest, when 
 my friend Wilkins made his appearance. " I have 
 come,'' said he, " understanding that you are 
 writing a work on Undergraduates, and thinking 
 that I might be of some service to you." " And 
 pray, who the deuce " I indignantly asked " told 
 you that I was writing a work ? It is a fabrication 
 Sir, a lie, an untruth. I swear it is." " Very 
 well," he replied, " that's just as it may be. But 
 I came to say that I have just returned from a 
 debate at the Union Society's room, and have 
 taken a few notes of the proceedings, after the 
 fashion of a parliamentary report, under the idea 
 that they might be of some service to you. Here 
 they are, if you like to have them." " Sit down 
 Wilkins, and take some rum," said I, a little mol- 
 lified, and throwing myself back into my easy 
 chair, read as follows. 
 
 ■5i& 3jp ^ ^ ^ ^ 
 
 The House having met last night at an early 
 hour to discuss the question proposed at the pre- 
 vious sitting by Mr. Tinkler, viz. " That we
 
 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 43 
 
 acknowledge with feelings of deep and abiding 
 self-congratulation that the Landgrave of Hesse- 
 lludolshwig has bestowed upon his subjects the 
 blessings of a free constitution." 
 
 Mr. Tinkler rose, to address to them a few 
 remai'ks upon the subject which he had had the 
 honor of submitting to the notice of the House. 
 It would of course be idle, as well as impertinent, 
 on his part, to offer them any observations on the 
 situation and history of the state of Hesse-Rudolsh- 
 wig, or the circumstances under which the consti- 
 tution had been granted. Of all this they w^ere 
 perfectly aware. (Hear, hear J. The only points 
 therefore to be considered in reference to this 
 question were, firstly, AVhat does a constitution 
 mean ? Secondly, "What advantages are likely to 
 arise from granting a constitution? And, thirdly, 
 What benefits will the inhabitants derive from 
 getting a constitution ? f signs of dissent from a 
 quiet man in a white neckcloth). He believed that 
 these were the only points to be considered; if, 
 however, there happened to be any more, the 
 honorable gentleman who had so kindly interrupted
 
 44 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 
 
 him would be able to enunciate them in the long 
 speech which he intended no doubt to make, bye 
 and bye. {Great laughter from the supporters of 
 Tinkler.') Such then being the case it became 
 necessary to point out to them what a constitution 
 meant. It meant, clearly, an extension of equal 
 protection to all classes of the community — Chris- 
 tians, Papists, Members of the Greek and Maho- 
 metan Churches, Jews, (loud cheering from Mr. 
 Salomons') in fact — in a word — yes — ahem ! every 
 body {groans from the opposite side of the house) — 
 " Stop ! " pursued the hon. gentleman, with some 
 warmth, " do not suppose that I am not deeply 
 " attached to that church to which I belong, and 
 " which I revere above all earthly things {interchange 
 " of winks between Tinkler and Salomons). But, it 
 " is precisely because I wish to see the vast German 
 " population united as one man in support of that 
 " church from which some of them are at present 
 " temporarily alienated — I allude of course to the 
 " Church of England — {cheers) that I am desirous 
 " of extending the liberty of conscience to all. 
 " {Renewed cheering). A constitution has been de-
 
 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 45 
 
 " monstrated therefore, to a certain extent, to be the 
 " granting of religious liberty to all classes. (^The 
 " honorable gentleman here stoj^ped to drink a glass 
 " of water) But there are other aspects in which it 
 " may be viewed, and I do think I shall be able 
 " to prove that it is a boon. I do think, I say, that 
 '* it is in every sense a boon. To prove distinctly 
 " what a constitution is, it will be necessary to go 
 " back to the rudiments of the science of political 
 " economy. Maculloch has been the first to teach 
 " us, and in this, he has been followed by Adam 
 " Smith, that labour is the source of wealth. In the 
 " same way it may be she"\vn that wealth is the 
 " source of increased intelligence, and increased 
 " intelligence of a constitution. Therefore labour is 
 " to a certain extent the primary source of a con- 
 " stitution. And indeed this has often furnished an 
 " argument to those who disapprove of royal charters 
 " granted in a day, viz, that as they are produced 
 " without labour, they cannot be real constitutions, 
 " according to the definition. This objection I 
 " hope however to be able to defeat." The lion, 
 gentleman then proceeded with the further con-
 
 46 THE UNIONIC CANTAB. 
 
 sideration of his various points, and after an 
 eloquent address of one hour and forty-five minutes 
 concluded as- follows, " Such then being the bles- 
 sings derivable from a constitution, let this house 
 hasten to extend the hand of protection to the 
 suffering Hesse-Eudolshwiggers, assm-ed that its 
 doing so will be hailed by every right-minded 
 person as an act of impartiality, charity, and jus- 
 tice." (Loud and long continued cheers. J 
 
 Mr. Salomons seconded the motion in a speech 
 of great ability, in the course of which he remarked 
 that after this able description of a constitution, it 
 would be unnecessary for him to enter into any- 
 thing more than the first principles of monarchical 
 institutions. This he would do in a few sentences. 
 Monarchy was a tyranny and a crying abuse. 
 fOh, oh I J Mind, he did not say that we were 
 not to acquiesce in it, on the contrary, it behoved 
 every good citizen, even while deeming it an abuse, 
 to uphold it with his property, and even with his 
 life. (Cheers'). With us, it was a necessary evil, 
 but he hoped that the Kudolshwiggers would soon 
 be free from it. That was why he supported the 
 
 I
 
 THE UNIONTC CANTAB. 47 
 
 motion. After a few more remarks upon the sub- 
 ject of first principles, and analytical reasoning, the 
 hon. gentleman sat down. 
 
 The Hon. Alexis Goegon (whose meaning it 
 was at times difficult to catch) opposed the motion. 
 Not but that he was pleased to hear of any State 
 obtaining political freedom, but on this occasion 
 that freedom was coupled with conditions which 
 rendered it downright bondage. He alluded to the 
 toleration of all sects^ — Jews included. (Groans 
 from Mr. Salomons). It was all very well for 
 certain honorable gentlemen to groan, but might 
 not this enactment furnish a precedent to our own 
 parliament, always ready as it was to imitate bad 
 examples, and reject the good. (Hear^ hear). 
 Why what had been the coiu-se pursued by the 
 ruling powers ever since the passing of that fatal 
 measure which in the words of the immortal 
 Eldon had caused " the star of England's glory to 
 set? " (Hear^ hear). There was the Catholic 
 Emancipation bill, to which he had just alluded, 
 the Reform bill, the Corn-law bill, with a host of 
 other bills. What did all this indicate? A falling
 
 48 THE UNTONIC CANTAB. 
 
 away from the true principles of religion, a ten- 
 dency in our legislature to infidel and heretical 
 tenets. Let them look, if they wanted to learn 
 more, at the attempt to introduce vote by ballot 
 and electoral districts. Then they would see more 
 clearly the extent to which the enemies of our 
 church sought to go. This was not the moment 
 for tampering with the foes of our religion. They 
 must up and rally round their throne, their church 
 and their time-hallowed institutions, unless they 
 wanted to see triennial parliaments established in 
 Westminster Hall, and Messrs. Hume and Cobden 
 the rulers of the country. (^Loud cheering ) . The 
 hon. gentleman concluded a long address by 
 calling on the house to oppose the motion as 
 they valued those religious principles which had 
 been instilled into them from their earliest years. 
 (Loud and long continued cheering, which lasted for 
 several mo7nents after the hon. gentleman had resumed 
 his seat.) 
 
 . An Hon. Gentleman (who spoke from the back 
 seats, and whose name we were unable to learn) 
 said, that he really did not sec what the description
 
 THE UNIONIC CANTATJ. 49 
 
 of a constitution, or the infidel character of our 
 legislature had to do with the subject under dis- 
 cussion. (^Cries of Oh, Oh). He had not learnt a 
 single fact, or been put in possession of one fresh 
 argument since he had entered that house three 
 hours ago. (Oh, Oh). The coiu-se which clearly 
 ought to be pursued on the present occasion, 
 before venturing to congratulate the Eudolsh- 
 ■vviggers upon the charter which they had obtained, 
 was, first, to consider the causes, history and pro- 
 gress of that emeiite which had wrenched it from 
 their unwilling ruler, and, secondly, the provisions 
 which the charter itself contained for fostering the 
 liberties of the people. This would guide them in 
 forming their estimate of its probable stability. 
 (Signs of impatience in the house.) Now, it 
 appeared that in the year 1807 a constitution had 
 been freely granted by Ferdinand, the eleventh 
 Landgrave, which had been recalled in the fol- 
 lowing year by Kudolph his successor. (Great 
 coughing and scraping of feet). It was from the 
 year 1812, the very period, they would please to 
 recollect, when Napoleon marched^ through their
 
 50 THE TJNIONIC CANTAB. 
 
 country on his expedition to Moscow, that the 
 awakening of this small but warlike people to the 
 blessings of constitutional freedom might in reality 
 be dated. (Increased sci^aping of feet^ in the midst 
 of which many hon. gentlemen left the house.) 
 
 The hon. member then proceeded with what 
 appeared to us a very clear and satisfactory 
 account of the case as it stood, but from his speak- 
 ing in a low and somewhat hesitating tone of voice, 
 and the constant scraping of feet and coughing 
 which interrupted him, it was impossible to catch 
 all that he said. 
 
 At the conclusion of his address, no one else volun- 
 teering to rise, Mr. Tinkler replied in a facetious 
 speech, frequently interrupted by laughter from 
 himself, and, the house dividing, the numbers were 
 found to be 
 
 For the Motion - - - 11 
 
 Against it - - - - 19 
 
 Mr. PococK neutral.
 
 51 
 
 THE CANTAB, WHO IS FOND OF "LONDON LIFE." 
 
 The Undergraduate who is fond of London Life 
 must be carefully distinguished from the Fast 
 Undergraduate, for although there may be many 
 individuals lucky enough to be able to lay claim 
 to both characters, yet I hold that there is a suffi- 
 cient difference between them to entitle each to a 
 separate consideration. 
 
 By " the Undergraduate who is fond of London 
 Life" I venture to designate that peculiar class of 
 our fellow-students who may be observed, for two 
 or three days at the beginning and two or three 
 days at the close of every vacation, sauntering 
 down Regent Street, smoking at the divan, staring 
 vacantly out of private boxes at the Lyceum, or, 
 with eye-glasses in theii' eyes, whirUng round and 
 round at the Casino. At this period, and when- 
 F 2
 
 52 
 
 THE CANTAB, 
 
 ever there is an Oxford and Cambridge boat-race 
 coming off, I observe that the streets are peopled 
 with well-known and familiar faces. Smith hails 
 me from a cab, and insists upon my coming to dine 
 with him at the Cafe de VEuroiJe ; Jones from the 
 stalls calls the attention of his friends to where I 
 am sitting peeling my orange in the pit ; and 
 Robinson almost knocks me over, as he hurries 
 breathless and expectant in the direction of the 
 Hall of Rome. 
 
 A Cambridge or Oxford Undergraduate with 
 these propensities is most commonly a resident in 
 the country. Six times a year he enjoys the 
 privilege of passing through the great metropolis, 
 and you may be sure that he makes the most of 
 his flying visit. First of all there is the "governor" 
 to be got over, who observing in the bill that 
 " residence commences on the 21st of April," 
 cannot see the necessity for his son's starting from 
 home on the 18th. That young gentleman, how- 
 ever, viewing matters in a different light, informs 
 him that all reading men are expected to be up at 
 least three days before any one else, and that if he
 
 LONDON LIFE." 53 
 
 does not start immediately he shall miss Professor 
 Airy's lecture upon Animal Heat, on which he is 
 suffered to pack up his things, and tearing himself 
 from the embraces of his sorrowing relatives in 
 the hall, enter the vehicle which is waiting to 
 convey him to the station. He lights a cigar as 
 soon as he is out of the garden gate, and handing 
 another to the driver, feels a sense of freedom. 
 
 On arriving in London, he drives up to an hotel, 
 where paying the cabman a shilling more than 
 his fare, he alights and proceeds to his bed-room 
 to dress for dinner. His preparations for this 
 event are more extensive than for the parties at 
 home, where the clergyman's lady and the doctor's 
 wife are not over critical. But now he feels that 
 he has the Casino before him, and pulls forth the 
 rich cut Genoa velvet waistcoat, and polished 
 leather boots, accordingly. On descending to the 
 coffee-room at half-past five, it is more than pro- 
 bable that he will meet four or five college friends 
 with whom he has made an appointment for that 
 hour to partake of " a chop." The " chop" com- 
 prises a little matter of turtle soup and venison, 
 F 3
 
 54 THE CANTAB, 
 
 turbot with lobster sauce, fruit pie and stiltoii. 
 None of the guests are hungry, all of them having 
 partaken of oysters with copious draughts of 
 porter some two hours before, but after all they 
 feel that they are doing the thing, and a man can 
 swill down champagne and madeira at any time. 
 Glass after glass is poured out, and they set to 
 with as much gusto as if they should never have 
 to take their degrees, and settle down into curacies, 
 and drink home-brewed beer, like the elderly 
 gentleman in the opposite box who sighs over his 
 veal cutlet and pint of pale ale, to think that he too 
 has been a University man, and eaten venison, and 
 run up wine bills without having to pay them, and 
 been happy. 
 
 About this time the Hansom, "the nobbiest 
 that you can pick out," drawing up to the door, 
 the party enter, and proceed to that private box 
 which has been so much the subject of meditation. 
 To me, there is a something absolutely beautiful 
 and picturesque in the sight of those young fellows, 
 buttoning on their white kid gloves, nodding aris- 
 tocratically to an acquaintance, or bringing their
 
 "WHO IS FOND OP " LONDON LIFE.*' 55 
 
 lorgnettes to bear upon a pretty girl opposite, just 
 for all the world like real men abouftown. They tell 
 each other anecdotes about the actresses, and boast 
 of an acquaintance with Paul Bedford ; they have 
 an intrigue, you may be quite sure, with somebody 
 or other of high rank and great beauty whom they 
 wouldn't mention on any account ; one of them was 
 introduced to the Earl of Higgins the other night, 
 at the Cider Cellars, and invited him to dine at the 
 Blue Posts (where, strange to say, a silver spoon 
 was missed after the departure of the noble peer ;) 
 another has been admitted to a tete a tete with 
 Mrs. Smith the celebrated actress; a third dis- 
 tinctly saw BucKSTONE come out of the house of a 
 Dowager Coimtess in Grosvenor Square, at half- 
 past six in the morning. 
 
 This is the talk of some of these young men 
 before the rising of the curtain and between the 
 scenes. During the performance they remain 
 tolerably quiet, not liking to endanger their posi 
 tion by exhibiting any violent symptoms of mirth, 
 except when any one in the play gets a slap on 
 the face, or one of the characters is represented as
 
 56 THE CANTAB, 
 
 tumbling down and hurting his nose, &c., when 
 their hilarity is frantic. An immoral piece they 
 greatly prefer to any other, and would enjoy a 
 double entendre^ if they could miderstand it. From 
 the theatre to the Casino, the Cider Cellars, and 
 other choice places of recreation is only a short 
 step; but here the well-disposed reader and I 
 must pause, partly because these scenes have been 
 so often described by abler pens, partly from un- 
 willingness to sit out those lugubrious songs, or 
 to see our dear school companion and college 
 friend flying from the policeman, who is in pur- 
 suit, eager to catch hold of him, and the knocker 
 which he has in his possession. 
 
 When the writer of the jDresent volume was in 
 London a short time since, studying at a solicitor's 
 office for a few months, just to see how he should 
 like it — a trial which of course proved signally 
 unsuccessful — he received an invitation to meet a 
 few Cambridge and Oxford men at an hotel in 
 Covent Garden, from his friend Rasisbottom, well 
 known at the Casino and elsewhere under the title of 
 " the Spicey one." The hour named for breakfast
 
 WHO IS FOND OF " LONDON LIFE." 57 
 
 was half-past eleven, but upon entering the coffee- 
 room he found that the host was still in bed, and not 
 one of the party arrived. To sit for half an hour in 
 the coffee-room of the Grand Piazza Hotel, reeking 
 with stale tobacco- smoke and the odour of hot joints, 
 to watch the haggard waiters hurrying to and fro 
 with dirty table cloths, is not a fascinating employ- 
 ment, neither are the day-before-yesterday's Times 
 and to-day's Herald interesting prints. At length, 
 however, my friend made his appearance in a pair 
 of worked worsted slippers and a shawl dressing 
 gown. His face bore that dingy character which 
 is inseparable from late hours and early soda water, 
 and his eyes looked as though you had written 
 your name on them with pen and ink, and smudged 
 it over with your thumb. His fingers blazed 
 forth with rings, and studs ornamented his shirt 
 front, but yet I couldn't help thinking him dirty; 
 and though the sovereigns were clinking against 
 one another in his waistcoat pocket as he walked 
 up, he bore an air of unhappiness against which it 
 would have been useless to contend. But then 
 this is " London life,"
 
 58 THE CANTAB, 
 
 " Sorry to keep you waiting, my boy," said he, 
 " but the fact is I was at the Pic. hist night, and 
 did not get to bed till past live o'clock-" 
 
 " What is the Pic ? " I asked. 
 
 " Pic," replied my friend, " is the abbreviated 
 term for — " and I dare say he would have given 
 me the required information had not the entrance 
 of two or three other young fellows, in long ostler 
 waistcoats and magnificent ties, interrupted him. 
 These were the gentlemen whom I had been in- 
 vited to meet. 
 
 " Higgins of Trinity — Jowler of Corpus — 
 Wiggins of Trinity — Figgins of Trinity." I was 
 introduced. 
 
 " What will you take to drink?" 
 
 " Soda-water and sherry," exclaimed one. 
 
 " Kum and milk," said a second. 
 
 " Something light and nutritious," was ordered 
 for a third, and so on. 
 
 I remember that the breakfast was the best part 
 of the entertainment, for pigeon-pie is an elegant 
 dish, and notwithstanding all that Mr. Albert
 
 WHO IS FO>"D OF " LONDON LIFE." 59 
 
 Smith may have to say against the practice, I do 
 not object to champagne in the morning, when I 
 drink it at somebody else's expense. 
 
 But oh the conversation ! Again am T compelled 
 to wish that I had the pen of a Lester in order to 
 describe it. Every body had done something 
 wonderful, every body had been in familiar con- 
 versation with some great man — there was no one 
 present who had not knocked down a policeman at 
 the very least. Casinos, Saloons, Poses Plastiques, 
 fighting taverns, and Opera stalls dropped out of 
 their mouths like the jewels from that of the young 
 person in the fairy tale. The following is a correct 
 list of the exploits narrated as having been achieved 
 on the night before — 
 
 Firstly, Eamsbottom had been to dine with 
 Levi, lessee of the Royal Guelphic Theatre, where 
 he met Macready, Paul Bedford, Sergeant Tal- 
 fourd, Munyard, and Sir Edward Lytton Bulwer. 
 
 FiGGiNS had danced at the Casino with a lady of 
 high rank, who insisted on taking him home to 
 supper in her carriage ("coachman with wig, foot- 
 man behind — two blood bays, my boy"). In the
 
 60 THE CANTAB, 
 
 middle of that meal, however, he was interrupted 
 by the entrance of her husband, who, misunder- 
 standing the matter entirely, and thinking that 
 there was something wrong going forward, ad- 
 vanced with the poker (" which of course I wrenched 
 out his hand, and hit him on the head with it, 
 dam'me"'). Thinking it, however, prudent to with- 
 draw he had descended to the hall, and was about 
 to open the street door, when the mistaken but 
 still infuriated man again confronted him, and 
 insisted upon a meeting on Wimbledon Common, 
 which he had accepted. 
 
 " And shall you go ? " asked Ramsbottom. 
 
 " Why hang it, no — I'm afraid I've got to be 
 back at Trinity to-day, or else I shouldn't mind 
 having a shot at the fellow." 
 
 Wiggins had supped with the Isle of Wight 
 Slasher, that eminent prize-fighter, when to his 
 surprise he recognized in the Slasher's wife a 
 lovely and confiding female whom he had seduced 
 in the North, when S,t a private tutor's some years 
 previously. (Admiring looks were cast upon 
 Wiggins from every one present, including myself.)
 
 WHO IS FOND OF " LONDON LIFE." 61 
 
 He was engaged in a very tender discourse with 
 her in the back parlour, when the Slasher came in, 
 and attempted to hit him on the nose, but fortu- 
 nately thrusting forth his umbrella he managed to 
 strike that character in the eye, and effected his 
 escape while he was rubbing it. 
 
 Nor were the adventures of Jowler and Higgins 
 less remarkable. As however it would be impos- 
 sible to record them without omitting a great part 
 of the cream of the narratives, it will suffice to say 
 that there was a good deal of intrigue, a vast 
 amount of quarrelling and drunkenness, and I 
 suspect not a little imagination in their compo- 
 sition. 
 
 After breakfast we adjourned to the smoking- 
 room, where steaming glasses of spirits and water 
 with Manilla cheroots were served up all round. 
 The conversation at the same time became loud 
 and general, and after a couple of hours spent in 
 talking and drinking, an unanimous desire was 
 expressed for lunch. Cold fowls and hock (as 
 being a cooling beverage) were accordingly ordered 
 to be laid in a private room, whither we had 
 G
 
 62 THE CANTAB, 
 
 scarcely adjourned and were in the act of sitting- 
 down, when the waiter advancing to our host said 
 in an audible whisper, 
 
 " Mr. Rehoboam is below, sir." 
 
 The words had scarcely fallen from his lips 
 when my friend Ramsbottom waved his carving- 
 knife in the air with a look of triumph, at the 
 same time administering a dig in the ribs to 
 Wiggins, who sat beside him. " I told you he'd 
 come, my boy," said he. There appeared to be 
 universal joy at the announcement of Rehoboam. 
 
 " You know old Bo an ofcoui'se?" asked one of 
 the young gentlemen of me. 
 
 '/ Why, no, I cannot say that I do," I replied. 
 
 " Oh, he's the poet, the great English what you 
 call it — improvisitory. We shall have capital fun, 
 you'll see." 
 
 It will naturally be expected that I was ex- 
 tremely anxious to catch a sight of this great man 
 — nor was it long before my desire was gratified. 
 A shuffling of feet was heard in the passage, the 
 door opened, and the great Improvisatore stood 
 before us.
 
 WHO IS FOND OF " LONDON LIFE." 63 
 
 The first all -prevailing impression of the human 
 mind on having Mr. EEHOBOAii presented to its 
 observation is, that he is either of the Hebrew 
 persuasion, or at all events a recent convert from 
 that faith. Nor would the individual be deemed 
 wholly incapable of forming an opinion, who 
 should suggest that he was dirty. For though 
 his hands had been sedulously scrubbed with soap 
 and water, no doubt in anticipation of being invited 
 out to lunch, I could not but remark that his 
 nails, from long habit, had refused to acquiesce in 
 this novel arrangement, and retained their original 
 hue of jet. An immense diamond brooch beamed 
 forth from his satin tie, while over the capacious 
 waistcoat chains of every magnitude meandered 
 gracefully. Altogether I thought that I had not 
 seen such a mixture of gems and grease for a long 
 while. 
 
 Very difterent, however, seemed the opinion of 
 my college friends. They rose and shook hands 
 with him, and pledged him in glasses of hock. 
 The illustrious Israelite was not slow in respond- 
 ing to these invitations. He bolted in the morsels 
 G 2
 
 64 THE CANTAB, 
 
 of chicken at the end of his knife, and pointed his 
 red stumpy finger at the portion of the joint from 
 which he should j^i'efer a sHce to be cut for him. 
 And akogether his conduct Avas such as to refute 
 the opinion of those who aver that poets live upon 
 nothing but inspiration. 
 
 After the meal there was a momentary pause, 
 and every one felt that the proper time had arrived 
 to ask Rehoboam for an impromptu song. 
 
 " Ask him for a song," whispered Wiggins to 
 me, " hell give you one in a moment. He pro- 
 mised he would when we met him last night." 
 
 "' How can I?" I replied, "I never saw him 
 before in all my life." 
 
 " Oh, never mind that. He's uncommonly affable, 
 though so devilish clever. Ask him, there's a 
 good fellow." 
 
 " Mr. Rehoboam," said I, turning to the bard, 
 *' there seems to exist a general wish amongst the 
 assembled company that you should favour them 
 with a specimen of that talent which has rendered 
 you celebrated in every quarter of the globe. Is 
 it asking too much to request that you will give
 
 AVHO IS FOND OF " LONDON LIFE." 65 
 
 US a few extemporaneous stanzas on the gentlemen 
 present ? I assure you we should consider it the 
 greatest possible favour if you complied." 
 
 The poet hemmed and hawed a little. " Sir, 
 and gents all," said he, " it isn't much in my line 
 to sing of a morning, besides which I have the 
 influenza uncommon bad, 'pon honour, but as 
 you've asked me, 111 do my best. So here goes." 
 
 And without further prelude he began — 
 
 Now, gents, although I've got a cold, 
 
 You'll make me sing by force, 
 So if I fail, don't call me ass, 
 
 "Whereas I'm only hoarse ; 
 But still to please you I'll comiDly, 
 
 And never care a pin, 
 If you'll supply the ' warm -^dtliout' 
 
 To stay the cold within. 
 
 Too roo ra loo ra roo ra loo 
 Too roo ra loo ra loo, &c. &c. 
 
 (SpoJcen.) There, noio Fm coughiii' ! — Oh, by Jove, 
 I'm nigh to death I fear — 
 But I'll stand the coughiii' all the night, 
 So you will stand the hcer. 
 G 3
 
 66 THE CANTAB, 
 
 Aiid now I'll sing you all a song 
 
 On the present companee, 
 If fii-st you'll tell me one by one, 
 
 What trade you'd like to be. 
 Too roo ra, &c. 
 
 A momentary pause, after which Ramsbottom 
 exclaims, " I should like to be a Member of Par- 
 liament." 
 
 Oh, very well ! 
 
 There's Eamsbottom upon my right, 
 
 A sipping of his ale, 
 His is a name which makes me think 
 
 That thereon hangs a tale. 
 He thinks, as phrenologians say, 
 
 He's got the M.P. bump. 
 But I hope he won't, like Cromwell's friends, 
 
 Prove a member of " the Rump." 
 Too roo ra, &c. 
 
 " I am going to the bar!" cries Figging. 
 
 There's Mr. Figgins sits behind 
 
 Whom I didn't see hefoi'e, 
 "Wlio hopes by rattmg to become, 
 
 Tlie Lord High Chancellor !
 
 WHO IS FOND OF ** LONDON LIFE." 67 
 
 Well, if lie does, he's sure to have 
 A well stuffed seat you know, 
 
 Since his thoughts have gone loool-gatliering 
 Full many years ago. 
 
 Too roo ra, &c. 
 
 And so on with Jowler and Higgins, with the 
 effusions on which names I do not think it right 
 to trouble the reader. Suffice it to say that the 
 great epic concluded thus — 
 
 " And what should you like to be, my stout 
 friend?" asked Mr. Eehoboam addressing me. 
 
 " For my part," I replied, " I think that the 
 profession which I shall adopt will be that of an 
 improsivatore or poet, following, of course, at 
 a humble distance, in the footsteps of the great 
 original ! " 
 
 Upon which the illustrious man, apparently 
 much pleased, finished up with the following 
 couplet : 
 
 Here's Mr. Smith that shall become 
 
 A poet brave and bold, 
 Like him as wrote the Hiliad 
 
 In Latin verses told.
 
 68 THE CANTAB, 
 
 He'll taste the sweets of Sally's lips, 
 
 (Since poets must, you see, 
 Be lovers too,) and then alone 
 
 A poet-taster be ! 
 
 Too roo ra loo ra, &c., ad libitum* 
 
 The applause and breaking of glasses, at the 
 conclusion of this song, were loud and universal, 
 and when I had taken my departure, I remember 
 meeting in the passage Codlins, the inimitable 
 clo\\^n, and one of the " only legitimate successors 
 of the late immortal Grimaldi," who was coming 
 in to join the festive party. • 
 
 The Undergraduate who is fond of "London 
 Life" generally returns to Cambridge with fifteen 
 shillings in his pocket, instead of the thirty-five 
 pounds with which he started from home. Late 
 hours and dissipation of all sorts have made his 
 eyes blood-shot and his step languid, and whatever 
 he may say to the contrary, he is glad to get back 
 
 * It "will gi'atify the admirers of the illustrious individual 
 whom I have ventured to designate under tlic title of 
 " Rchoboam," to be told that the above is, as neai'ly as I can 
 recollect, a genuine effusion of his, with the names of the 
 parties of course altered. — J. S.
 
 WHO IS FOND OF " LONDON LIFE." 69 
 
 again. Then it is that, on visiting him in his 
 rooms, you are favoured with a new and more 
 complete account of his adventures in town, which 
 he tells so often that he actually believes them, and 
 they become the standard subject of conversation 
 in his set, till the commencement of another vaca- 
 tion, and a fresh visit to the Metropolis displaces 
 them for a fresh series of fabrications. 
 
 Great heavens! if only one tenth part of these 
 stories be true, how I should tremble, if I were a 
 poor but virtuous beauty, to think that three times 
 in every year such a swarm of Adonises are let 
 loose upon the capital of the British isles; with 
 what resolution should I press the immediate pay- 
 ment of my little account, if I were a hotel-keeper; 
 and, if I were a policeman, with what speed I should 
 beat a retreat, when observing in the distance the 
 advance of an Undergraduate, whom from his 
 unsteady gait and debauched appearance I judged 
 to be one of those who are fond of " London Life."
 
 70 
 
 THE ARISTOCRATIC CANTAB. 
 
 Of " Aristocratic Undergraduates" it cannot be 
 expected that the author should have much per- 
 sonal knowledge. But this is by no means a 
 reason why he should not have a word or two to 
 say about them. What hours of intoxicating de- 
 light would be taken from us, if none were to sit 
 down and write fashionable novels but such as 
 are intimately acquainted with fashionable life ! 
 
 My friend Hardicanute Fitz-Canute is perhaps 
 the only member of the upper classes with whom 
 I enjoy the privilege of an occasional conversation. 
 Canute Castle, a gothic structure of great antiquity, 
 is distinctly visible from the parlour window of 
 Smith Hall, and the intimacy between the two 
 families dates from the period of Henry, fifth Earl 
 Canute, having commissioned my grandfather to
 
 THE ATITSTOCRATIC CANTAB. 71 
 
 supply the punch for that enormous fountain whicli 
 played on the occasion of his son's coming of age. 
 A noble duke who happened to be present and 
 tasted the beverage, made the remark that the 
 workmen employed upon the cascade had forgotten 
 to draw off the water before introducing the spirit, 
 which sneer at the want of strength in the punch 
 so affected my grandfather's mind, that he cut his 
 throat, shortly afterwards, with a patent anti-cor- 
 rosive razor. When the tidings of this melancholy 
 event reached the Earl's ears, he was so much 
 moved by it, as to make a victim of himself by 
 declaring that henceforth no wine or liquor of any 
 sort should find its way into the castle, except such 
 as was fiu-nished by his son and successor. This 
 practice, although very unjustly discontinued by 
 the sixth Earl, has given rise to the annual invi- 
 tation which we receive to dinner at Canute Castle, 
 and to that degree of notice bestowed upon the 
 -writer of these pages by Hardicanute, the noble 
 peer's third son, and a hat fellow commoner of one 
 of our most distinguished colleges. 
 
 You may see him sometimes on a fine summer's
 
 72 THE ARISTOCRATIC CANTAB, 
 
 day, sauntering down the parade, not very quietly 
 dressed it must be owned, but altogether looking 
 extremely noble and aristocratic. There is a 
 neatness, and if I may use the word in defiance 
 of Johnson, a shininess about his personal ap- 
 pearance which is inseparable from the idea of a 
 man who has a looking glass in his room, and is 
 not behind hand in making use of it. On these 
 occasions his face wears an expression as clearly 
 to be interpreted as if he said in so many words? 
 " Poor devil, how I pity you!" to every one that 
 passed, and he will acknowledge your salutation 
 by the very faintest possible bend of the head. 
 He belongs to several societies of Undergraduates 
 — the Acropolis as a matter of course, to gain 
 admission to which, besides being a man of irre- 
 proachable private character (which is a sine qua 
 non), you must be a member of a distinguished 
 family — the ancient Mutton Cutlet club, at whose 
 weekly dinners the reader may chance to have 
 heard from some happy friend, who is a member, 
 that mutton broth, sheep's head, boiled and roast 
 mutton, mutton ham, mutton chops, mutton cutlets
 
 THE AHISTOCKATTC CANTAB. 73 
 
 and mutton pie are the constituted fare — and the 
 poHtical association of the Original Greens, insti- 
 tuted for the purpose of holding a monthly supper, 
 where all the guests sit down in the costume of a 
 by-gone age, when the club was first established, 
 and drink loyal toasts in knee breeches, and flowing 
 perriwigs. 
 
 But h.t none of my fellow plebeians suppose, 
 because I have incidentally made mention of these 
 institutions, that it is my wish to sneer at them. 
 Such is by no means the case. We know that the 
 fox sneered at the grapes, and it is far from my 
 desire to furnish a parallel to that noted quadruped. 
 Nothing indeed is more natural than that a certain 
 set of young men, elevated by their rank and 
 fortune to a position which you and I can never 
 hope to attain to, shovJd be anxious to consort 
 with those whose pursuits, and way of thinking, and 
 mode of life, are more nearly allied to their own, 
 than yours or mine would be. Under these cir- 
 cumstances, for a man to laugh at the Acropolis 
 would be about as ridiculous as if he were to cry 
 down the House of Lords, solely on the ground 
 
 H
 
 74 THE AEISTOCEATIC CAKTAB. 
 
 that he did not happen to be a lord himself. No! 
 if I were a duke or a baronet, I should make a 
 point of immediately becoming a candidate for 
 admission into one of these clubs. It is true that 
 I might propose the introduction of a little beef or 
 veal, for the sake of variety into the dinners of the 
 one; and the sitting down in the costume of the 
 present degenerate century, to the suppers of the 
 other — but that is neither here nor there. 
 
 To return to Fitz-Canute. I should be loth to 
 deny him the possession of those qualities which 
 are supereminently his own, and I will at once 
 confess that he has an air of polish about him 
 which may be invariably observed to belong to 
 those who have mixed much in good society. 
 Unlike the vulgar, bragging, beer-drinking fast 
 man, he looks well, whatever clothes he may 
 happen to have on, from the most frightfully 
 glaring patterns down to the soberest suit of 
 mourning. He rises late in the day, but without 
 the taste of gin and water in his mouth, and is not 
 compelled to take brandy, to recruit himself, in his 
 tea. Spirits of all kinds he abhors, and will not
 
 THE ARISTOCRATIC CANTAB. 75 
 
 even allow you to take a cigar in his rooms. He 
 has a pianoforte, upon which he practices daily, 
 and by means of this employment, and reading the 
 Morning Post, where he sees an account of his 
 mother's parties, he contrives to rub on till the 
 time for a ride or a walk has arrived. On his 
 return, he proceeds to dress for a dinner party, 
 from which however he retires at an early period, 
 preferring to spend the evening by himself, or with 
 one or two Undergraduates of his acquaintance. 
 If I drop in upon him at this time, I am received 
 with cordiality, and without that hauteur which 
 he sometimes puts on towards strangers. There 
 is too great a difference between our respective 
 positions, to render it necessary for him to be dis- 
 tant in his intercourse with me. Indeed, there 
 cannot be a greater contrast than between the way 
 in which a visitor is received by Fitz- Canute, and 
 another aristocrat whom I have the honour and 
 happiness to know, my friend Algernon de Mont- 
 morency. This latter I knew very well at school, 
 under the name which he then bore, that of John 
 Algernon Higginbottom. He has become what he 
 h2
 
 76 
 
 THE AllISTOCKATlC CANTAB. 
 
 now is, by the following process. The first change 
 was the assumption of the " De Montmorency," by 
 which he figured as Higginbottom-de Montmorency. 
 The second was the dropping of the " Higgin- 
 bottom" altogether, and the throwing of the John 
 into the back ground, by which he comes out 
 metamorphosed into Algernon de Montmorency, 
 tlius proving that there may be sometimes two 
 steps instead of one from the ridiculous to the 
 sublime. However, even aristocrats have their 
 weak points, and Algernon will go anywhere for 
 a dinner. 
 
 I am quite ashamed to own it, for Mr. Titmarsh 
 would assuredly set me down as a snob if I told 
 him so, but I have spent some very pleasant even- 
 ings with Fitz-Canute, discussing the great people 
 of his acquaintance in town. It is from him that I 
 have gathered those materials, which I intend to 
 work up into a three volume novel, Avith a lovely 
 heiress and a dissolute man of fashion for the hero 
 and heroine. ( Subscribers are requested to put down 
 their names at Mr. Earle s). He tells me what you 
 do at the Countess of Alderney's, aud how, after
 
 THE ARISTOCRATIC CANTAB. 77 
 
 bowing to her, you move off and mingle with the rest 
 of the company; how the Marcliioness of Hey Down 
 Derry incensed her guests by going off to bed in 
 the middle of a ball, and ordering the lamps to be 
 put out ; of the remark which Her Majesty made 
 to the Prince, when they were sitting alone at 
 Buckingham Palace, about Mrs. Lancet's fete 
 champetre ; and how Mrs. Aniseed won her hus- 
 band's heart, by clearing a park wall when out 
 with the hounds, and so getting the start of the 
 field, as well as the numerous rivals in his affec- 
 tions. To do him justice, however, he never tells 
 these stories except when I ask him for them, 
 which I invariably do at the commencement of 
 every vacation, as by retailing them at tea parties 
 in the country, I sometimes induce persons to be- 
 lieve that I am myself a frequenter of aristocratic 
 parties. 
 
 When you see him in London, it is not dashing 
 into the Cctsmo, or tottering out of the Blue Posts 
 with the lighted end of a cigar in his mouth. If 
 he is sitting beside a young lady in a private box, 
 it is his sister or his cousin, whom he is escorting 
 h3
 
 78 THE ARISTOCEATIC CANTAB. 
 
 to the play. He doesn't feel the slightest incli- 
 nation to shake hands with Paul Bedford, or to 
 have Tom Matthews to breakfast with him. He 
 is an arrant protectionist, but acknowledges freely 
 that it is because his " governor" (by the way Avhat 
 a horrible term that is, getting into general use), 
 because his "governor" is the owner of large 
 landed property. Books he is not much acquainted 
 with, with the exception of the Waverley Novels and 
 Pickwick. Upon the whole, I should say that he 
 would be admirably fitted for what he is shortly 
 about to become — the member for an upright and 
 independent borough, and a silent, though enthu- 
 siastic, supporter of his father's principles, in the 
 House of Commons. 
 
 But of course it cannot be supposed that all 
 Aristocratic Undergraduates should be of the same 
 sort as the one whom I have just attempted to 
 describe. Small indeed is the number of those 
 who are so entirely free from vice as Fitz-Canute, 
 whose eccentricities are so harmless and excusable. 
 But as I have already had the honour to lay " the 
 fast man" before the readei', that respectable per-
 
 THE AKISTOCRATIC CANTAB. 79 
 
 sonage, in case he be acquainted with any Aris- 
 tocrats who wring knockers, or ride steeple-chases, 
 or get drunk, will be kind enough to refer them 
 (as he will be fully justified in doing) to that head, 
 and look to the chapter specified, for more particular 
 information. 
 
 I cannot, however, leave this part of my subject, 
 without adverting to that class of Pseudo-Aris- 
 tocrats who are, comparatively speaking, as plentiful 
 in this salubrious town, as in any other of the 
 United Kingdom. The great world into which we 
 are some of us shortly about to enter, does not 
 contain more arrant s7iol>s, to use the term of a 
 living author, than the University of Cambridge. 
 
 When, for instance, Fitz-Canute puts on any 
 of his airs towards me, or looks intently at the 
 Wellington statue as I nod to him in Hyde 
 Park, or becomes unconscious of my presence, as I 
 pass him in the lobby of the Opera, although I 
 can't quite approve of his conduct in doing so, still 
 I must admit that there is some excuse to be made. 
 The ancestors of the man who cuts me, have cut 
 kings and cardinals in their day ; the grandfather
 
 80 
 
 THE AEISTOCRATTC CANTAB. 
 
 of the Canute, who refuses to notice ray proffered 
 hand, refused to shake that of the Prince of Wales 
 himself, when he called on him to apologize for the 
 seduction of his wife. In the family tree, the wars 
 of the Roses, and indeed the fall of Troy itself, 
 occur but in the topmost branches, while he will 
 speak to you of the Reformation, and the great 
 Rebellion, as events so ridiculously recent, that I 
 shouldn't be surprized to hear that he had been 
 present at them in person. At home, the farmers 
 take off their hats to him, as he rides through the 
 county town on a market-day, and in the parish 
 church, the curate does not begin reading the 
 service till the family from the castle have taken 
 possession of their great, red-curtained pew. I say, 
 taking all these circumstances into consideration, 
 I can understand why Fitz- Canute should be 
 proud. 
 
 But what, in the name of all that is wonderful, 
 authorizes that great lubber Growler, or my young 
 favourite De Montmorency n^ Higginbottom, to 
 turn up their noses at me as they pass, and call 
 me a vulgar fellow. When, out with the hounds, I
 
 THE ARISTOCRATIC CANTAB. 81 
 
 caught Growler's horse, who had prudently di- 
 vested himself of so heavy a burden after his third 
 fence, why did he get on again, without so much 
 as saying, "thank you?'' Why, when I put up 
 for the "United Cantabs," did Montmorency black- 
 ball me, on the ground that I was low born. I am 
 as well born as he is. And if I choose to spend a 
 few pounds in procuring the luxury, may I not 
 become a Howard or a De Vere myself, in the 
 course of the year? Higgy (as we used to call 
 him playfully at school), is glad enough to drink 
 my Sherry, and fill his case with my cigars of a 
 morning. Why then should he go about, and 
 relate with a leer that my father is a wine mer- 
 chant ? 
 
 If ever the beloved reader shall become Lord 
 Chancellor, or Generalissimo of our forces, or 
 Archbishop of Canterbury, as I have no reason to 
 doubt he will, I trust that he will give himself all 
 the airs in the world to make up for his previous 
 humility. But I give him this permission upon 
 one condition, that until that time shall arrive, he
 
 82 THE ARISTOCRATIC CANTAB. 
 
 never ape the manners of an Aristocrat, if he be 
 a plebeian ; or by unduly exalting himself over the 
 heads of his humbler brethren, strive to attain 
 prematurely to that position, to which he will find, 
 in the long run, that virtue and talent can alone 
 entitle him.
 
 83 
 
 THE CANTAB VHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 I suspect that there are more of us Undergra- 
 duates in love, than some of your proud, cold- 
 hearted philosophers would be ready to allow. In 
 this, there is nothing but what is very natural and 
 proper. Granted that from five-and-twenty to 
 five-and- thirty be the period most usually selected 
 by persons in easy circumstances to marry in, I 
 deny that it is that selected by Providence for 
 them to fall in love, and make fools of themselves 
 in that way. No! although I was never thirty 
 years of age myself, yet I shrewdly suspect that it 
 is the loss of consols, and not that of the lady's 
 hand, that grieves men so much at that time of 
 life — whereas the heartfelt anguish, the long 
 solitary walk, the refusal of the proffered cutlet, 
 and the breaking up of all the long-constructed
 
 84 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 hopes, plans, and establishments in the air — which 
 of us is there who does not know by experience 
 that these are the portion of the Undergraduate 
 who is in love, from eighteen to twenty-two! 
 
 A man who suffers himself to fall into this kind 
 of state is exceedingly difficult to describe, because 
 he so seldom allow^s you to catch sight of him. 
 Now and then, indeed, he will drop in of a morn- 
 ing) to ask how you are getting on. He sinks 
 down listlessly into your great easy chair, and falls 
 straightway to w^ork upon his usual employment 
 of building castles in the air, which he peoples 
 wdth himself, and his Araminta, or his Theresa, as 
 the case may be. To the questions which you put 
 to him he gives vague and indefinite replies, and 
 becomes at last so absent in the spirit, that you 
 Avish with all your heart that he were absent in 
 the flesh as well. Sometimes, as you arc sitting at 
 breakfast in his room, there will arrive by the 
 penny post — that aqueduct for lovers' tears — an 
 exquisitely sealed and scented billet j which, from 
 its shape, and appearance altogether, you feel cer- 
 tain must be the production of a lady. This he
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 85 
 
 will seize with a convulsive grasp, and holding it 
 before him for a moment, as if scarcely daring to 
 break open the envelope, scamper through it with 
 breathless rapidity, never apologising to you the 
 while for reading the document in your presence. 
 When he has laid it down, there are various signs 
 by which you may form your own conclusions as 
 to the nature of the intelligence which it contains. 
 The heaving of a great sigh, or the pushing away 
 of the still untasted sausage, would, it is needless 
 to say, be intimations of some most sorrowful news, 
 w^hile the attempt to look jocose, and hum a comic 
 ballad, in a broken tone of voice, would, if possible, 
 convey a still more chilling sensation to the nerves 
 of the helpless spectator. On the other hand, a 
 broad smile of delight on the face of the reader, 
 increasing as the second sheet is turned over, and 
 merging into an absolute chuckle of joy at the 
 culminating point, the postscript ; the laying down 
 of the note, with a hasty exclamation of " Beg your 
 pardon. Smith, my boy. Merely a little unim- 
 portant matter that I was obliged to look to, that's 
 all," and the request for another slice of ham — all 
 I
 
 86 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 these signs, I say, would be sure indications of a 
 reply, such as I hope that the writer, and purchaser 
 of this httle volume may receive, when they come 
 to propose to a lovely, artless, and fascinating girl, 
 with something snug in the 3^ per cent. Eeduced. 
 The victim, moreover, of an affair of the heart 
 is fond of long, solitary rambles in the country. 
 He starts forth, with a novel in his pocket, and 
 throwing himself on the grass, beneath the shelter 
 of some tall tree, attempts to read. He remem- 
 bers to have once followed with eager interest the 
 chaste adventui'es of Devereux, to have sighed with 
 the author over the impending fate of the noble 
 Clifford, to have sympathised with him in the lofty 
 aspirings of the virtuous Aram, but now all these 
 things have passed away. Hero and heroine fade from 
 his sight, and are supplanted by one figure, pale and 
 haughty in its loveliness — the figure in fact of the 
 young lady, whom he met at the pic-nic, and wrote 
 to, and was rejected. Gradually, even her face 
 becomes indistinct. The more he longs to retain 
 it in his mind, the more shadowy does it become. 
 He has thought upon it so long, that it refuses, as
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 87 
 
 it were, to present itself before him except in 
 glimpses. His father and mother, his brothers, 
 sisters and friends, he can conjure up before him 
 at any moment, as they look in life. He has not 
 thought upon them so long that their image gene- 
 rated in his mind has become worn out, vague and 
 indistinct. Confused and perplexed, he rises from 
 the earth, just as the distant clock of St. Mary's 
 strikes half-past three. On his way back to col- 
 lege, he thinks all the women whom he meets 
 plainer and more uninteresting than he did before 
 he was at that pic-nic. " Shall I ever be happy 
 if she doesn't relent?" he asks of himself, and the 
 answer of his racked and tortured soul is invariably 
 the same, "Impossible!'' Throughout the meal 
 of dinner it is the same. Throughout tea. Through- 
 out the sleepless watches of the night. 
 
 But it is most likely that the conduct of persons 
 who are in love, or who fancy themselves to be in 
 love, which is precisely the same thing, must be 
 alike all over the globe. It is a fact, I believe, 
 borne out by the experience of our missionaries, 
 that the young South- Sea islander is chaffed and 
 I 2
 
 88 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 jeered at by the other savages of his set, upon the 
 formation of a matrimonial engagement — love 
 being one of those things, like gout, for which you 
 get but little sympathy. However, so long as the 
 wretched man keeps his feelings locked up in his 
 OAvn bosom, I have no objection to his being as 
 miserable, in her absence, as the object of his affec- 
 tions could possibly desire. The Undergraduates 
 whom I take leave to object to, are those who 
 come dinning into your ears an account of their 
 hopes and expectations, their successes and failures, 
 who read to you their letters to Maria, and 
 Maria's replies, who show you miniatures of the 
 favoured fair one, who make themselves glad over 
 your port and sherry, at the attainment of their 
 object, who solace themselves with your cigars and 
 whiskey -toddy, for their defeat. 
 
 Perhaps, however, the reader is not a man 
 cursed with a reputation for being able to keep a 
 secret. If such be the case, let him thank his 
 stars. He stands upon secure ground. He will 
 be able to plague otliers, but will not be plagued 
 himself. Mine has been a more unhappy lot. I
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 89 
 
 am a discreet man. I am like the lion's mouth at 
 Venice, a receptacle for all sorts of unprecedented 
 secrets. I have actually dictated letters for young 
 Eomeos of this University, to their adorable 
 Juliets. Sometimes, indeed, I think of retaliating 
 upon society by falling in love myself, and going 
 about amongst my acquaintance, to ask them for 
 their advice. By the way, will it be tiring the 
 reader's patience, too much, if I relate to him the 
 love adventure, of which Jones made me th^ confi- 
 dante some time ago. My friend having dropped 
 in one morning, and decanted a bottle of madeira, 
 and taken down my meerschaum from the wall, 
 and made himself comfortable, suddenly became 
 very communicative, and having first extracted 
 from me the promise of profound secrecy, narrated, 
 in substance, the following little affair : 
 
 Whoever has travelled much in the county of 
 Clackmannan, N.B., will not fail to be acquainted 
 with the Reverend Andrew Buzzard, a clergyman 
 of the Anglican Church, and justly celebrated as a 
 long-vacation tutor, or " coach." Situated upon 
 a lofty eminence, his windows command a siuvey, 
 I 3
 
 90 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 the most ravishing the imagination can picture — 
 mountains rear their tall summits for the calcula- 
 tions of the mathematician, and in the valley beneath 
 waving corn fields and luxurious pasture grounds, 
 furnish a perpetual chart of reference to the student 
 of the Georgics, Not far from the house flows the 
 majestic Clack, a source of recreation to the angler, 
 while the society in the neighbourhood is in every 
 way unexceptionable and genteel. In my first year 
 at college, it used to be a great object amongst Un- 
 dergraduates of a certain class to spend a " long" 
 with the Reverend Mr. Buzzard. Perhaps they were 
 induced to do so, not so much by the attractions 
 set forth above, as the intelligence that there were 
 daughters in the family, many in number, lovely 
 in appearance. Nor were parents in this matter 
 less anxious than the sons themselves. It gave 
 you a certain pj^estige amongst the Evangelical 
 party (of which I am a member) to have received 
 a portion at least of your education at the hands 
 of Buzzard, the bosom friend of Simeon, the cor- 
 respondent of Mac Neill, the intimate of Caris- 
 SiMUS himself. His prices were high, but not too
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 91 
 
 high in consideration of tlie advantages held fortli. 
 No immorality, nothing savouring of the world, 
 was permitted beneath his roof. He required a 
 certificate of previous good conduct, and applica- 
 tion to study, before consenting to receive any one. 
 To an unsteady man, the place would have proved 
 as wearisome as the reign of Pluto. Even I, 
 though of Evangelical principles, should have 
 found it dull, had it not been for circumstances 
 shortly to be detailed. For I recollect that the 
 old gentleman, on catching me, one day, with a short 
 pipe in my mouth, up in one of his out-houses, 
 read me a severe lecture on that immoral and 
 degrading practice. 
 
 " Every idle and unprofitable expence is regis- 
 tered against you on high," said he; "that pipe- 
 full of tobacco is put down in the great book." 
 
 " Well, sir," said I, " it will only be twopence- 
 halfpenny, on the creditor side." 
 
 " Do not indulge in ribaldry, Jones," he replied, 
 " or I can no longer keep you beneath my truly 
 humble and happy Christian roof," and, so saying, 
 he retired to look out for me a new and excitinp:
 
 92 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 tract, " The Pipe-smoker's Fate, or the End of a 
 Cigar." 
 
 There were eight of us young fellows reading in 
 that humble and happy Christian home, during the 
 summer of 1845, and each of the two spare bed- 
 rooms was split up into four, by means of parti- 
 tions, for the purpose of accommodating us. A 
 similar number of daughters graced the Buzzardian 
 table, four of whom had arrived at that period of 
 life, when even the most devout of women begin to 
 think of a settlement. It will not be a matter of 
 surprise to the reader, therefore, that each of these 
 maidens should find a devoted admirer in one of 
 oui'selves. In fact, Pa^vkins, the senior of any of 
 us by some years, and a third year man, was in 
 love with Frances Wilberforce Buzzard, a comely 
 virgin of about a quarter of a century old ; 
 Heartburn had gone so far as to propose to, and 
 was actually accepted by, Emily Simeon; Pocock 
 was sweet upon Annie Inglis ; while Belinda — the 
 fair Belinda — had fallen at once to the lot, and 
 more than once into the arms, of the present 
 writer. I was in love with that girl, before I had
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IS LOVE. 93 
 
 been a fortnight in the house. To hear her warble 
 forth chants, and missionary hymns, of an evening, 
 was enough to tame the most savage breast, but it 
 was the presentation of a magnificent dahlia, to 
 stick in my button-hole, and culled by her fair 
 hands, which completed the conquest of me. I was 
 about to flop down upon my knees, as fast as my 
 natural corpulence v/ould allow me, and making 
 preparations for that feat, by surreptitiously un- 
 buttoning my straps, when the form of Pawieins, 
 seen dimly in the distance with his Frances, 
 deterred me. I therefore reserved my declaration 
 for the next day but one. It should have been 
 made the next day, only that happened to be a 
 Sunday. 
 
 We "11 drop a veil over this part of the affair. 
 I was accepted, and we took long walks together, 
 in shady lanes, of an evening. All this time, I 
 couldn't help noticing, to my intense satisfaction, 
 that Mrs. Buzzard was ignorant, not only of what 
 was going on between myself and Belinda, but of the 
 love affairs of ray three friends. If she had known 
 of them, she would have stopped them at once, so
 
 94 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 great were her scruples on these points. I doubt 
 not that she would have turned us all out of the 
 house, if she had known that we were proposing to 
 her daughters. But, by a singular coincidence, it 
 always happened that when I muttered a soft word 
 or so to my sweetheart, Mrs. B. looked intensely 
 out of the window, and if ever I ventured to snatch 
 a kiss, she was so much employed upon her em- 
 broidery, as not to hear it, though the smack were 
 loud enough to awaken the seven sleepers. So 
 that she knew nothing whatever of the matter, 
 poor thing! 
 
 Now the fates so decreed it, that after we had 
 been engaged to one another about three weeks, 
 my uncle, whose sole heir I was (his only son 
 having died of the yellow-fever, brought on by 
 excessive study) married, and was blessed with 
 another child, to supply the loss of him who had 
 been so prematurely snatched away. As he was 
 settled in Borneo, and but few communications 
 passed between us, I heard the intelligence of the 
 nuptials, and the birth, at the same time. It is 
 needless to say that no sensation of a mercenary
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOTE. 95 
 
 kind passed across my mind. I rejoiced, and I 
 knew that the Buzzards would rejoice that their 
 old friend (for they know him well) should at 
 length have a prop, and a stay, to rest upon, in his 
 old age. So that my feelings, on learning the 
 news, partook, as may be supposed, of unmixed 
 joviality and delight. 
 
 I communicated the fact to them at breakfast. 
 Contrary to my expectations, Mr. and Mrs. B. ex- 
 changed a looked of horror, such as is more easily 
 imagined than described. The same look, it 
 struck me, was reflected back from the counte- 
 nance of my Belinda, for she turned pale, and 
 nearly choked herself in the attempt to take in a 
 mouthful of pie. What could it be ? Probably 
 they were all shocked to think that a man so close 
 to the verge of the grave should be thinking about 
 anything but his eternal interests. Perhaps they 
 deemed marriage an unsuitable thing for a gouty 
 old fellow turned threescore? However, I was 
 somewhat reassured by their turning round to me 
 and saying, " Mr. Jones, we congratulate you upon
 
 96 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 this truly hapjjy and auspicious event," or words to 
 that effect. 
 
 As I retired from the breakfast- room, for the 
 purpose of resuming my studies, it occurred to me 
 that I would on that very day inform my preceptor 
 of the tie which existed between myself and his fair 
 child. " It is true," I thought to myself, " that I 
 have now only two hundred pounds a-year, instead 
 of the three thousand which I looked forward to. 
 But what of that ? Has not my kind tutor often 
 declared to me that riches serve but to strew more 
 briars in our heavenly path. " The road is steep 
 enough and narrow enough already, Jones," said 
 he to me the other day, " I am not anxious, for my 
 part, that, by the addition of wealth, it should be 
 made steeper and narrow^er for me to climb up. I 
 have responsibilities enough already ; I do not 
 wish to increase them, God knows. No! If ever 
 it should be permitted me to see my daughters 
 settled down in life, I hope that it will be in com- 
 pany with such husbands, as are not distinguished 
 by the magnitude of their earthly possessions, but
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 97 
 
 rather by the treasure which is laid up, where 
 neither moth nor rust can corrupt. This is the 
 only investment that an Evangelical clergyman 
 can take cognizance of, or regard." So that I felt 
 no doubt whatever as to the result. 
 
 But alas! no one can calculate his destiny. On 
 so many chances does our life depend. The whole 
 course of mine was changed by a bottle of goose- 
 berry wine, Smith, my boy. 
 
 That same day, after dinner, it being particu- 
 larly sultry weather, PococK, Pawkins and I sallied 
 forth, to lie down under the trees, and write sonnets. 
 We took out a bottle of that infernal mixture 
 mentioned above (of which Pa^mhns always kept 
 a dozen in a hamper at home) to drink, in case 
 composition should make us thirsty. As I was 
 the youngest, it fell to my lot to carry it in the 
 pocket of my shooting-jacket. I threw myself at 
 full length upon the grass, without remembering 
 to take it out, and was soon in a fine poetic 
 frenzy. The following was the result. I have 
 kept it in ray desk to this day. 
 
 E
 
 98 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 " Oh, pray don't trouble yourself to read it out," 
 I interrupted. 
 
 " Yes, but I should like you to hear it. Here 
 it is — - 
 
 To Belinda. 
 
 The secret, that your eyes wrote on my soul, 
 Wlien last we met, shall ne'er effaced be, 
 
 Though sorrow's troubled waters o'er me roll. 
 And all, but that, be swept into the sea. 
 
 One pearly drop, the lashes intertwining. 
 
 O'er the smooth skin had scarcely ta'en its way, 
 
 Wlien the bright sun, from those dear eyes outshining, 
 Lit up your cheek, and chased the tear away. 
 
 It circled round my heart, to feed the hope. 
 
 That, from a child, mto a giant grew, 
 Ambition's portal, glory's gate to ope, 
 
 You were the world, and I had conquered you. 
 
 Well, I had scarcely got to a conclusion, when 
 whom should I see in the distance, with her para- 
 sol up, and " Carus's Life of Simeon" in her hand,
 
 THE CANTAE WHO IS IN LOVE. 99 
 
 but Belinda herself! To jump up, at the immi- 
 nent risk of breaking the bottle, to bound over a 
 stile, and to run towards her, panting, and with 
 the sonnet in my extended hand, was the work of 
 an instant. It struck me that she looked rather 
 coolly at me when I reached her side. Perhaps it 
 was only fancy, but, at all events, the fancy took so 
 strong a hold of me, that I could not help saying, 
 " Do you feel at all unwell to-day, my loved one?" 
 
 " Not in the least unwell, I thank you, Mr. 
 Jones," she replied, lifting her eyes for a moment 
 from the truly delightful work on which she was 
 engaged, and returning to it forthwith. 
 
 " Why is it then," I exclaimed, passionately, 
 racking my brains, at the same time, to find out 
 what cause of offence I could have given her. 
 " Why is it, that you look so coldly upon your 
 David. Oh, do not trifle with the feelings of one 
 whom you will only goad on to desperation. Oh, 
 tempt me not to the commission of any desperate 
 act. You do not answer me. Well, then, listen 
 to what is about to follow. If you want to know 
 what is about to take place, cruel Belinda, listen!" 
 K 2
 
 100 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOTE. 
 
 Moved by the abruptness of my manner, she did 
 listen, and in a moment was startled by a loud 
 explosion in my coat-pocket, as the cork of the 
 gooseberry wine bottle sprung forth, and struck 
 her, by no means gently, upon the nose. I was so 
 stupified that I could not even move. Meanwhile, 
 the neck of the bottle, being brought by the posi- 
 tion in which I was standing, to bear full upon her 
 lovely countenance, continued, for some time, to 
 discharge a torrent of British champagne, over her 
 fair neck and bosom. To add to my discomfiture, 
 I heard the chuckle of PAWTi:iNS, and the loud roar 
 of PococK, who it appears had witnessed the acci- 
 dent from behind the hedge, and were now ap- 
 proaching. 
 
 " There is no need of an apology, sir, I can 
 assure you," said the drenched young lady, as soon 
 as, the bottle having quite expended its contents 
 upon her, we had somewhat recovered oiu" presence 
 of mind, and she was moving off towards home, 
 like another Undine, " you will favour me there- 
 fore by not attempting one." There was an omi- 
 nous twinkle of malice in that girl's eye, as the
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 101 
 
 drops of sparkling liquid coursed each other down 
 her red satin frock. 
 
 The same night I was summoned by my tutor 
 into his study. " After what has happened to- 
 day, Mr. Jones," said he, " it will of course be 
 impossible for you to remain any longer an inmate 
 of this humble and happy Christian home. You 
 will yourself see the propriety of at once with- 
 drawing, Mr. Jones." I was stupified. " What 
 do you allude to, sir ?" said I, " surely not to that 
 little accident which happened to day — the burst- 
 ing of the cork, I mean, when I was talking to 
 Miss Belinda ? Nobody can be better aware than 
 herself, that it was hut an accident. 
 
 " If you suppose Mr. Jokes," repUed he, " that 
 the mere fact of a little occurrence of that sort 
 having taken place, under ordinary circumstances, 
 would be sufficient to cause me to dismiss a pupil 
 from under my roof, you greatly misunderstand 
 the feelings by which I am actuated towards 
 those, who either entrust themselves, or are en- 
 trusted by their parents, to my paternal care. No 
 sir! you might have spoiled iifty dresses of my 
 K 3
 
 102 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 daughter's, you might have deluged her, a hundred 
 times, from head tQ foot, and that would have 
 formed no cause of complaint, on my part, against 
 you. It is the fact of your walking about in the 
 middle of the day — yes, sir, in the middle of the 
 day — with spirituous liquors, concealed in your 
 pockets, that renders you unfit to remain longer in 
 tins house, or to mix with a truly Christian and 
 Evangelical family. Gracious me! Champagne 
 too"— 
 
 " But, sir," I interrupted, " it was only British 
 champagne, I can assure you." 
 
 ^''British champagne!" replied Mr. Buzzard, 
 " of what avail is that paltry subterfuge ? As well 
 might a Frenchman exciise himself for getting 
 drunk, on the plea that it was only off French 
 brandy, or a West Indian consider himself guilt- 
 less, because he had been drinking nothing but 
 Jamaica rum. This is a very poor justification 
 indeed. You must find some better one sir, or I 
 shall be compelled to abide by my original opinion 
 of you." 
 
 " I have nothing further to say, sir," I answered, 
 '' except that your daughter and I" —
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 103 
 
 " I know what you are about to tell me," put in 
 Mr. Buzzard — " that you have succeeded in win- 
 ning the affections of my artless girl. It was only 
 last night that, with a burst of tears, she informed 
 me of the event, and begged me not to interpose 
 to prevent her happiness. But you know my 
 principles sir. You were at that time supposed 
 to be the heir to a large fortune, and we know how 
 dilFicuit it is for a rich man to enter into heaven. 
 I could not therefore have entrusted Belinda's 
 happiness to the keeping of a man, who laboured 
 under such a terrible responsibility. Firmly, 
 though with considerable pain, I refused to sanction 
 your suit. 
 
 " But, this morning, I was delighted to hear the 
 intelligence that you would not be a man of wealth. 
 Yoiu- uncle was married, and you would hence- 
 forth have only a moderate income. This intel- 
 ligence would have gained you my daughter's hand, 
 Mr. Jones, had it had not been for the revelation 
 made by the providei^tial bursting of that spirit 
 bottle — well, champagne bottle if you like it — it 
 is the same thing. This consideration is what
 
 104 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 
 
 renders your dismissal doubly painful to me ; with 
 worldly and unregenerate people, I doubt not that 
 your uncle's marriage would have operated against 
 you; with me it was the very thing to advance 
 your interests. Oh, Mr. Jones, look well to the 
 heart, examine well the workings of the heart. 
 I do not despair of you — but this evening we must 
 part, I am sorry to say, for the present." 
 
 The good man, however, wouldn't let me go till 
 he had sung a hymn with me, and prayed for my 
 amendment. At night-fall I started off in a post- 
 chaise, and left my Belinda without an interview. 
 Poor thing ! she's married now, and strangely 
 enough, they say it is to a very wealthy Johnian. 
 But to think that my love should have been nipped 
 in the bud by the bursting of a gooseberry Avine 
 cork. What do you think of it. Smith ? You're 
 the man I know to give advice. 
 
 " Why, that I scarcely know," I replied, " which 
 was the luckiest thing — the popping of the cork 
 for old Buzzard, or your uncle's marriage for 
 yourself" 
 
 " Wliy so? IIow do you mean?" asked Jones.
 
 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE. 105 
 
 " I mean that the one event gave Buzzard a 
 decent excuse to turn you off, when you appeared 
 to be no longer an eligible match ; the other, 
 though it deprived you of the prospect of a 
 fortune, yet set you free from some of the most 
 execrable harpies that ever yet preyed upon Under- 
 o-raduates in the Ions; vacation." 
 
 "Why good God!" cried Joxes, " Mr. Buzzard 
 was an Evangelical clergyman. You don't suppose 
 that anything sordid ever" — 
 
 " Jones, you have been talking for some time, 
 and must be dry. Sit down and take some pale 
 ale." And I turned the conversation into another 
 channel. 
 
 If I have succeeded in tiring the reader, and 
 making him yawn over the above episode, then 
 will my proudest wish be indeed accomplished. 
 For he will be able to tell by actual experience 
 the horror of being made a confidante in Uni- 
 versity love-matters, and will be induced to shun, 
 as though it were a pest, the character of being a 
 discreet man. I can assure him, however, that 
 what I have written is true, and pretty nearly
 
 106 THE CANTAB WHO IS IN LOVE, 
 
 word for word as I had it from the lips of a friend, 
 some months ago. And to it I will take the liberty 
 of appending the following moral — 
 
 Let young gentlemen, of susceptible hearts, avoid 
 reading, in the long vacation, with clergymen of 
 Evangelical principles, who have corresponded with 
 Simeon, and speak at May Meetings, and compose 
 hymn-books, and speak of the utter emptiness of 
 the world whenever they meet you, and have young 
 unmarried daughters.
 
 107 
 
 THE MARRIED CANTAB. 
 
 Just as we introduced "the fast man" to the 
 reader, after having parted company with "the 
 reading man," so, in natiu^al succession to the 
 " Undergraduate who is in love," comes his dia- 
 metrical opposite, " the Undergraduate who is 
 married." 
 
 The married Undergraduate is commonly much 
 older than the majority of single students (if we 
 except Queen's men). Not unfrequently, indeed, 
 he has attained to that age, when grey hair has 
 superseded the flaxen locks of youth; when the 
 trowsers require to be let out, rather in breadth 
 than in length ; when, the table cloth being re- 
 moved, waistcoats have to be adjusted to their 
 after-dinner focus, and a nap is taken on the sofa; 
 when young fellows pause deferentially in the
 
 108 THE MAHRTED CANTAB. 
 
 midst of their equivocal talk, and listen to your 
 stories, and laugh ; when, in fact, a man is no 
 longer what he used to be — " in the year '27 sir, 
 
 when I was a stripling sir, and a d d rowing 
 
 young chap, by Jove." 
 
 There is generally some sufficient reason for his 
 coming up to college at this advanced period of his 
 life, as you will find out if you ask him. Either 
 he has served in the army and, peace having be- 
 come general, is converted, and going into the 
 church ; or he has been for some years at the 
 bar without getting a brief, is converted and, &c. ; 
 or else a rich family living is likely to become 
 vacant, he is, &c. For, ordinarily speaking, 
 married Undergraduates are going to take holy 
 orders. The reason is obvious. No man who 
 has taken unto himself a spouse would, I ap- 
 prehend, much enjoy his three years of student 
 life. He would not, in all probability, come up 
 at all, unless compelled to do so. But what is the 
 profession to enter into which he must be a B.A.? 
 The Church. Therefore married Undergraduates
 
 THE MARRIED CANTAB. 109 
 
 are, with few exceptions, going into the Church. 
 Q.E.D. 
 
 These old fogies, however (many of whom by 
 the way are fellow-commoners), cannot, of course, 
 any more than their juniors, be supposed to be all 
 of one way of thinking. To some, indeed, you 
 look up rather as if they were fathers, or tutors, 
 or something of that sort, than as fellow students 
 of the same college as yourself. You ask them to 
 breakfast, by themselves, or to meet one or two 
 staid men upon whom you can rely. You are 
 nearly ready to sink under the table with shame 
 and vexation, when a fast friend rushes in un- 
 wittingly, with an oath, and a lighted cigar. You 
 ask him rather coldly to take a seat, and look at 
 your married guest as much as to say, " Don't sup- 
 pose I know much of the fellow ! He is but a 
 passing acquaintance. Shocliing debauched cha- 
 racter ! how I long for him to go out again." The 
 "shocking debauched character" is, it is needless 
 to say, your bosom friend, whom you had particu- 
 larly requested not to come in on that morning. 
 
 On the other hand, there are married men, and 
 
 L
 
 110 THE MABBIED CANTAB. 
 
 men pretty well advanced in the vale of years, 
 who do not seem to be so very particular about 
 the society which they frequent. Indeed, one of 
 the most jovial fellows I ever knew was the 
 lamented Tuggins of Queen's, or Tom Tug as we 
 used to call him, a grey-haired freshman of about 
 fifty-five, with a strong tendency to gout. He 
 rented a cottage in the neighbourhood of Cam- 
 bridge, and expected soon to have a vote for the 
 county. It was in the garden of this cottage that 
 I was first introduced to him by a mutual friend. 
 He was digging in his shirt sleeves and a broad 
 brimmed straw hat, while the maid servant was 
 employed in drawing Master Thomas and Miss 
 Jane up and down the gravel walk, in one of those 
 infantine vehicles out of which it is so wonderful 
 that our babies do not tumble even more oflen 
 than they do. Distant visions of Mrs. Tuggins 
 superintending the dinner presented themselves to 
 us, through the kitchen window, while an odour 
 of roast pork pervaded the front hall and the stair- 
 case, as soon as we had made our entrance. 
 Nothing would do but we were to go into his
 
 THE MAEKIED CANTAB. Ill 
 
 private room, or " study" as he called it strangely 
 enough, for the purpose of drinking Dublin stout, 
 and enjoying a social pipe. I had an acquaintance 
 with him from that day henceforth. Oh ! the 
 pleasant little supper parties that we used to have 
 at that cottage, when Mrs. T. would leave the 
 dining parlour at an early hour, and retire to seek 
 that repose which I doubt very much whether she 
 ever obtained, considering the pathetic ballads that 
 we used to roar out, over the whisky-toddy and 
 rum punch. 
 
 It does not, however, by any means follow that 
 because you know the husband you are admitted 
 to the society of the wife. You meet Mr. and 
 Mrs. Z. walking every day upon the Trumpington 
 Road; Z. whom you are in the habit of patting 
 upon the back, asking him at the same time how 
 he has left his better half, when you meet him in 
 college. A nod, and possibly a sly wink, passes 
 between you two, but IMrs. Z. is quite ignorant of 
 who you are. When you have passed on, a 
 dialogue ensues between the happy pair. 
 L 2
 
 112 THE MAERIED CANTAS. 
 
 "Who is that debauched-looking young man 
 with whom you appear to be so intimate, Mr. 
 Zany ? " asks the wife. 
 
 " Only Smith of our hall," replies Mr. Z. " a 
 very good sort of fellow. By the bye, my love, I 
 was thinking of asking him " — 
 
 " Not to my house, sir, if that is what you mean. 
 No, I shall not quite submit to have such a low 
 person introduced to me, whoever you may think 
 fit to associate with, Mr. Zany. He does not come 
 into my house, and so I tell you at once." 
 
 And so you don't. And perhaj)s it's an advan- 
 tage after all. For the fact is that, during term 
 time, we suffer ourselves to fall into a few little 
 bachelor eccentricities, amiable and inoffensive 
 doubtless in themselves, but not exactly qualified 
 to raise us in the estimation of the ladies. The 
 truth of this position was never so distinctly proved 
 to me, as yesterday, when my friend Topham rushed 
 in, and, in deplorable accents, informed me that he 
 had for ever forfeited the esteem of his patron, the 
 Master of St. Highbury Hall, from whom, to tell
 
 THE MARRIED CANTAB. 113 
 
 the truth, he had been all along expecting a college 
 living. 
 
 " How so ? " I enquired, " what in the world 
 have you been doing ? " 
 
 " Why," said he, "I was walking in the gardens, 
 
 about an hour and a half ago, when I met Dr. and 
 
 Mrs. Whittler, who insisted on my coming into 
 
 the lodge with them, to lunch. I invented as 
 
 many excuses as I could think of, but they would 
 
 positively take no refusal. After lunch, as I was 
 
 engaged in talking to Mrs. Whittler about Carior's 
 
 last sermon, and the good that it had done me, the 
 
 children boimded down from the nursery in a 
 
 body, and commenced running round and round 
 
 my chair, and poking pins into the calves of my 
 
 legs, as you know that pla3rful children will do. 
 
 Smarting under this operation, and yet making a 
 
 dismal attempt to grin, I was quoting that part of 
 
 the discoui'se where the preacher warns his hearers 
 
 against the temptations of a University career, 
 
 dissipation, spirit-drinking, &c., when Newton 
 
 Whittler — you know that great boy — well, Newton 
 
 rushed from behind me with a look of triumph 
 «■» 
 
 L O
 
 114 THE MAERIED CANTAU. 
 
 and, holding up divers articles to his mother's 
 inspection, exclaimed, ' See mamma, what I've 
 fomid in Mr. Topham's pockets!' Great heavens! 
 the young rogue had, without my knowing it, 
 divested them of the whole of their contents. 
 
 " They were these — 
 
 One short pipe. 
 
 One ditto with longer stem. 
 
 A card of Newmarket races. 
 
 My pocket flask, containing whiskey. 
 
 A miniature edition of Lord Byron's Don Juan. 
 
 Two pennyworth of tobacco, wrapped up in 
 brown paper. 
 
 And a squirt. 
 
 " You should have seen Mrs. Whittler s face ! T 
 shall never, never, never be asked there again. 
 That I'm sure of, Smith." 
 
 The moral to be deduced from the foregoing 
 little anecdote exactly tallies with my previous 
 statement, viz. that the society of Undergraduates 
 is not the best training school for that of the fair 
 sex. For if my young friend had been at home, 
 instead of at the University, I apprehend that he
 
 THE MARRIED CANTAB. 115 
 
 would not have had occasion to carry about in his 
 pockets, when going out for a walk, either — 
 
 A couple of pipes. 
 
 Or a Don Juan. 
 
 Or a card of the races. 
 
 Or two pennyworth of tobacco. 
 
 {Or, in fine, -j 
 a Squirt. J 
 There would have been no fear, I say, of any 
 playful and high-spirited boy abstracting them 
 from the recesses of his coat. He would not have 
 forfeited the esteem of Dr. or Mrs. Whittler, or 
 lost all chance of that college living to which he 
 had been so long and so anxiously looking forward.
 
 116 
 
 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL CANTAB, OR " SIM/' 
 
 There may arise considerable doubts, in tlie well- 
 constituted minds of some of my readers, as to 
 whether the consideration of the "Low-church 
 Undergraduate " lies exactly within the province 
 of the present writer. I have had such doubts 
 myself. I have been afraid lest in attempting to 
 note down a few of the peculiarities of such as 
 may be said to hold extravagant religious doc- 
 trines, I should be suspected of a desire to laugh 
 at all things sacred, at all true godliness of cha- 
 racter, at everything, in short, that tends to 
 elevate the character, and to purify the soul. 
 
 Let it be understood however, i7i limine, that I 
 apply the term " Sim " to designate — not as too 
 many have done, such as refuse to join in their
 
 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL CANTAB. 117 
 
 own lawless pui'suits, on the plea of conscience and 
 religious duty — but rather those men, of whom I 
 have seen not a few in my time, whose charity 
 appears to consist in condemning every one but 
 themselves; who tell you that the theatre is the 
 workshop of Satan; the ball room, a rendezvous 
 for lost spirits ; novels, the literature of hell ; that 
 the only newspaper the Christian ought to read is 
 the Becord; and the only lectures worth hearing, 
 those of Mr. Carissd^s. 
 
 And here let me make a remark which will 
 prevent much misapprehension. Just as, in treat- 
 ing of " the Boating Undergraduate," I did not 
 allude to all boating Undergraduates, many of 
 whom, doubtless, by entering upon the pursuit 
 moderately, derive from it great pleasure and real 
 advantage ; just as under the term "the man who 
 is in love," I did not include all men who have an 
 aflfair of the heart, a great number of whom con- 
 duct themselves with signal propriety under the 
 circumstances; so also, in saying a few^ words on 
 the subject of " Snis," it is by no means my wish 
 to cast a stone at all such as revere the memory of
 
 118 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL 
 
 the late Revd. Charles Simeon, but at those only, 
 who while they strive to imitate the eccentricities, 
 and what I humbly venture to call, errors^ in that 
 good man's religious belief, would do well if they 
 fixed their attention a little more closely upon his 
 precepts on other matters — on Christian charity — 
 on purity of mind and morals — on pride — on 
 judging others — on universal benevolence and 
 philanthropy. 
 
 And now let me warn the fast man, and the 
 sporting man, and the free-thinker, and hoo 
 genus omne — if my little book shall be sufficiently 
 honored to find its way into the hands of any such 
 — that they had better skip this chapter, and go 
 on to the next. It will be as unintelligible to them 
 as if it were written in one of the dead languages. 
 It is impossible that they should be acquainted 
 with any Sm. 
 
 The ultra-Evangelical Undergraduate or Sim 
 then, is not often to be met with by the unre- 
 generate, except in hall, in chapel, walking from 
 two to four o'clock, or at small wine parties 
 of an exceedingly mild description. Whether 
 he be a reading man depends entirely upon cir-
 
 CANTAB, OR "SIM." 119 
 
 cumstances. The mania, occasionally indeed, lays 
 hold of some distinguished personage, a high 
 wrangler for instance, or one well up in the list of 
 classical honors. But its effects are most frequently 
 to be traced in those, who having studied night 
 and morning for three years, appear at last in the 
 third class of the " Poll," or are destined to have 
 their names handed down to posterity in the 
 Cambridge Calendar, as Junior Optimes. Some- 
 times, the Sim refuses altogether to follow in the 
 beaten course, eschewing classical authors as im- 
 moral and lascivious, and mathematics as a useless 
 waste of time. He undergoes therefore a course 
 of daily reading, which consists for the most part 
 of the following authors — Bunyan, Baxter, New- 
 ton, Scott, Romaine, Wilberforce, Hannah More, 
 Gurnall, Doddridge, Matthew Henry, and others 
 too numerous to mention. His favorite poets are 
 Dr. Watts, Bishop Heber, Henry Kirke White, 
 Mrs. Hemans, and Charlotte Elizabeth. His 
 periodicals — the Record, the Church of England 
 Magazine, the Christian Observer, the Visitor, and 
 various Missionary Magazines. His favorite works
 
 120 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL 
 
 of fiction — the Pilgrim's Progress, the Barren Fig 
 Tree, the Sacred War, the Annals of the Poor, 
 Death a vision, and Dunallan. All good works, 
 all calculated to make us know our duty, and 
 perform it better, but surely never intended by 
 their authors to be the subjects of daily, even 
 hourly, study and meditation. Suppose the greater 
 part of the world turned Sims to-morrow, and took 
 to reading nothing but these books, how inconve- 
 nient it would be for the unconverted minority ! 
 " Mr. Deighton, when are the third and fourth 
 volumes of Macaulay's History of England to 
 appear?" "Not at all. Sir. He has abandoned 
 the design. But we shall have his commentary on 
 Job, early in November." 
 
 With the writings of the early fathers, the 
 ultra-Sim does not profess to be particularly 
 acquainted. In fact, he considers it rather 
 Puseyitical and High-Church to know anything 
 about them. The Roman Catholic, the clergy- 
 man who preaches in his surplice, the sign of 
 the cross, the Bishop of Exeter, Mr. Newman, 
 and the Pope for the time being, are equally ob-
 
 CANTAB, OR "SIM." 121 
 
 jects of his abhorrence. To decisions pronounced 
 by Councils of the Church he attaches no sort of 
 importance, deeming it rather expedient that every 
 man should judge for himself. But the dictum of 
 Mr. MacNeile, or Mr. Close, or Mr. Dale, or the 
 Hon. and Rev. Baptist Noel (until very lately) he 
 has been accustomed to trust implicitly. They are 
 his " councils " as it were. He does not want any 
 other. I am reminded by the casual, and perhaps 
 irreverent, introduction of these eminent names, 
 that, of all men, the Sim is the greatest hunter after 
 popular preachers. He would go without his 
 dinner to hear Mr. Close " hold forth " at Great 
 St. Mary's; he details with satisfaction the benefit 
 he has derived from " sitting under;' Mr. MacNeile 
 for six successive Sundays at Liverpool. Nor am 
 I disposed to question the truth of his statement 
 in this particular. I don't believe^ but rather knoiv, 
 that the greatest possible advantage will accrue to 
 the attentive listener, from the discourses of either 
 of these gentlemen. But what I do object to is 
 the tribute of hero-worship which is paid to 
 popular preachers of their own persuasion, by 
 
 M
 
 122 THE ULTUA-EVANGELICAL 
 
 poor, deluded, infatuated Sims; the cringing sub- 
 servience with which their every opinion is 
 received; the superior, almost Angelic, virtue 
 which is supposed to belong to them. Great 
 Heavens, Sir, I know as well as you do, that an 
 " Evangelical " clergyman of eminence may be a 
 good man, nay, that he is generally a good man, 
 but you will pardon me if I fall into error, in con- 
 sidering him a ma?i still — a man with failings 
 just like you or I, liable to fall as we are, not to 
 be impKcitly trusted or exalted into a God, any 
 more than another mortal. But when I hear that 
 Mr. So-and-so has had two hundred and sixty 
 pair of slippers worked for him by the ladies of 
 his congregation in the course of the past year; 
 that when Mr. So-and-so mentions a book inciden- 
 tally in his sermon, all the old dowagers in the 
 parish rush off and purchase it, the next day, so 
 as to give occasion to the following remark which 
 I have read in a religious periodical, " I would 
 rather have a work of a local nature, if I wrote one, 
 favorably spoken of by him in the pulpit, than 
 eulogistically reviewed either in the Quarterly or the
 
 CANTAB, OK " SIM." 123 
 
 EdinhurgJi"\ when I learn that in a particular 
 town, which shall be nameless, there are mothers 
 who will not bestow their daughters in marriage, 
 without first obtaining the consent of the Kevd. 
 
 Mr. A. to the match ; that in the city of it 
 
 is dangerous to impugn the opinion of Mr. B. at 
 the dinner table, even though given on some 
 secular matter, — then I confess that I am anxious 
 to have a sight of these men, who appear to exer- 
 cise a more tremendous influence over their fol- 
 lowers than ever Mahomet did over the wild 
 Arabians who followed his standard, or in later 
 times, M. Proudhon over the deluded wretches, 
 who emigrated in shoals to seek, under his auspices, 
 an El Dorado in the sterile plains of Icaria. One 
 can't help too being somehow or other reminded 
 of that excellent work, " the Jesuit in the Family." 
 Is it possible that in this, as well as in other cases, 
 extremes meet? 
 
 And now, my dear friend, you^ whose pardon I 
 hope to obtain for calling you by the vulgar nick- 
 name of " Sim " — answer me one question fairly, 
 openly, without subterfuge. Call me what you 
 M 2
 
 124 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL 
 
 like, for asking it, but let the reply be that dic- 
 tated by your conscience. 
 
 When you see a printed placard in the street 
 such as the subjoined (only in larger type). 
 
 St. Mary's Church. 
 
 THE REVD. H. MACNEILE, 
 
 Will preach a Charity Sermon, on Sunday 
 next, in aid of, &c., &c. 
 
 You probably determine in youi^ mind to hear 
 that sermon, and repair to' St. Mary's at the ap- 
 pointed time, accordingly. 
 
 Very well. I too when I cast my eyes upon a 
 notice such as this, 
 
 Princess's Theatre, 
 MR. MACREADY, 
 
 will make his first appearance on Monday 
 next, in the part of, &c., &c- 
 
 may possibly resolve to witness the efforts of that 
 tragedian, and take my place in the gallery of the 
 theatre, just as you do in that of the church.
 
 CANTAB, OK " SIM." 125 
 
 Now then, the question that I wish to ask you 
 is this. Can it be that there is any similarity 
 between the feeling which induces you to go to 
 the one place, and that which tempts me to go to 
 the other? Is it the pure milk of the word that 
 you are so anxious to drink in, or are you at all — 
 slightly perhaps, but still a little bit — attracted by 
 the sound of a great name? Could any parallel be 
 drawn between the excitement which is caused in 
 your mind by the fiery denunciations of the 
 preacher, and that produced in mine by the burn- 
 ing words, the outburst of wrath, the simulated 
 despair of the actor? Are you as attentive to the 
 church service, as you are to the sermon? — or do 
 you sometimes feel sensible of entertaining a 
 desire that the liturgy were at an end, and the 
 great orator in the pulpit — just as in some of the 
 scenes, I long for Polonius, and Laertes, and 
 Ophelia, and the King, and the Queen, to have 
 said their say, and to be gone about their business, 
 in order that I may have Hamlet back again? 
 Do you, or do you not, confess to such a feeling? 
 Mind, I am not comparing a church with a theatre ; 
 M 3
 
 126 THE ULTRA-EVAI^GELICAL 
 
 I know as well that it is a religious duty to attend 
 the one, as I do that to frequent the other is an 
 indulgence open to some grave objections. But 
 what I wish to inculcate on you is the possibility 
 that in the case referred to, we are each of us 
 seeking excitement under a different form, and 
 that you go to church to see and hear MacNeile, 
 just as I go to the theatre to see and hear 
 MacReady. 
 
 To return however to the subject more imme- 
 diately under consideration, the Sbi has a peculiar 
 jargon, borrowed from the Sacred Scriptui'es, and 
 to my way of thinking, offensive and irreverent 
 in the extreme. He speaks of A. as " a young man 
 actuated no doubt by highly benevolent motives, 
 but a sad worldling, a sad worldling''^] of B. as 
 " one who has not yet experienced the saving 
 change'''' \ of C. as "one of the unconverted,^'' and 
 so on. It does not at all follow, because these 
 opinions have been expressed about them, that 
 A. or B. or C. are persons of notoriously bad 
 lives. A. is a Tractarian perhaps, B. has been 
 seen in a theatre, C. at a race-course. It is quite
 
 CANTAB, Oil "siM." 127 
 
 sufficient. The sentence has gone forth against 
 them. Eternal misery will be their portion, at 
 least so says the Sdi, although I dare say he 
 would be shocked, if you told him that that was 
 the inference to be drawn from his remark. 
 
 Never shall I forget the rebuke which I once 
 heard administered to a popular Evangelical 
 preacher, by a venerable Archdeacon, formerly 
 fellow of a College in this University. There had 
 been some conversation about a wealthy pa- 
 rishioner of the former, in the course of which 
 
 Mr. said, " Poor Sir John! He is, I fear, in 
 
 the broad road to everlasting perdition," adding at 
 the same time to his neighbour the archdeacon, 
 "now Sir, Avould you have that man for your 
 churchwarden, if you were in my place ? " 
 
 " Mr. ," replied the clergyman addressed, 
 
 " it is impossible for me to say what my line of 
 conduct might be, if I were in your place. I have 
 responsibilities enough already. I have to visit 
 the sick, to comfort the bruised in spirit, and to 
 preach the word of God to my peoj)le, indepen- 
 dently of the duties which devolve upon me as an
 
 128 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL 
 
 officer of the church. But I cannot for a single 
 moment suppose myself in the situation of one, 
 who carries in his hand, as you appear to do, the 
 keys of heaven and the keys of hellJ" 
 
 Now, the Sims, of all others, offend most deeply 
 against that injunction which the reprimand of 
 the worthy archdeacon was meant to convey. 
 Where they sit in judgment, the acquittals are 
 few, the condemnations many. There are but few 
 souls that are returned " not guilty," at the bar of 
 their opinion. If any reader think this statement 
 an exaggeration, let him turn to a number of the 
 Evangelical Magazine^ published some time in 
 1847, where he will find an article headed, " Can 
 the Christian dance?" in which it is cleaiiy shewn 
 that the Christian canwo^ be a dancer. The 
 inference plainly is that if you are a dancer, you 
 are not a Christian. Now, reader, do you ever 
 dance? If so, you are not a Christian in the 
 opinion of the conductors of the Evangelical 
 Magazine. You know what that is a mild term 
 for? If you don't I will tell you. It means that 
 if you go to balls, you will go to hell. There is
 
 SIM." 129 
 
 no use whatever in blinking the matter, by veiling 
 it under a milder form of words. The impropriety 
 of the expression, if there be any, will be laid to 
 the charge of those who have compelled me to pen 
 it, by publishing such impious, unmeaning, uncha- 
 ritable and loathsome balderdash as the article 
 alluded to. 
 
 I have said that the Sim is fond of frequenting 
 small wine parties, of a mild description, where he 
 meets with other students of a similar way of 
 thinking. Here the conversation is chiefly on the 
 leading topic of the day, the May meetings, the 
 Trincomalee mission, the secession of Baptist Noel, 
 Julius Charles Hare and the Stirling Club, &c. 
 &;c. They speak in a slow measured tone of voice, 
 which I remark to be very popular amongst per- 
 sons of their persuasion. Texts are fired off round 
 the table, like crackers at a supper of the ungodly. 
 Sometimes a joke is attempted, it is needless to 
 say of the very mildest kind. However jokes of 
 any sort being a rarity with them, they laugh 
 approvingly. Their parties however are for the 
 most part about as jovial as a Puritan conventicle,
 
 130 THE XJLTEA-EVANGELICAL, 
 
 which indeed, from the long pale sallow faces 
 glaring at you, over the calico neck-cloths, and 
 the drawling voices of the guests, they not a little 
 resemble. By a slight effort of the imagination, 
 you might fancy that youth at the top of the table 
 to be Praise-God Barebones himself, and the 
 gentleman at the bottom, that brother of his, who 
 though he enjoyed a whole text of Scripture to 
 his Christian name, most commonly went by the 
 last, and most expressive word in it. 
 
 If a worldly person — which means in fact any 
 person who does not happen to belong to the 
 Evangelical party — should chance to find himself 
 in the midst of one of these conclaves, he must 
 take care not to endanger his position by indulging 
 in remarks of an equivocal and unspiritual nature, 
 which savour of the flesh, I have heard statues 
 such as the " Venus de Medici," and pictures such 
 as Rubens' "Judgment of Paris," censured as 
 immoral, because they exhibit the naked figure — 
 I have heard it said that no truly reUgious man 
 could invest money in a Railway, because Sunday 
 travelling is permitted on the lines — I have known
 
 CANTAB, OR " SIM." 131 
 
 an undergraduate to be looked upon coldly by his 
 friends for playing a rubber at whist — I have 
 been given to understand, over and over again, 
 that to argue in favor of marriage with a deceased 
 wife's sister, or the repeal of capital punishment, 
 proves the individual so arguing to be a practical 
 infidel. All these statements, and a great many 
 more, have I heard at various times in this 
 enlightened University, but have invariably re- 
 pressed my inclination to laugh. I recommend 
 the reader to imitate my example, when placed 
 in similar circumstances. If he does not, however, 
 feel inclined to hold his tongue, through respect to 
 the feelings of the assembled party, let him at all 
 events do so, from considerations of a personal 
 nature. For he may rest well assured that if he 
 indulge in any unseemly outburst of merriment, 
 he will be a marked man from that hom\ His 
 Evangelical acquaintance will drop off from him 
 as though he were a moral pest, or meet together 
 once a week, to make him the subject of prayer, 
 as I have actually known to have been done. He 
 will have his appetite taken away by the receipt
 
 132 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL 
 
 of frightful tracts, showing that there is no doubt 
 whatever as to where we are all going to, with the 
 exception of a chosen few who appear to keep 
 salvation in their own hands. Freshmen will be 
 warned against associa,ting with him. Comparisons 
 will be instituted betAveen him and certain Scrip- 
 tural characters, such as Esau or Absolom. It is 
 not impossible that he will be shewn to have been 
 predicted in the Revelation, under the name of " the 
 man of sin," or something of that sort — [For I 
 remark that, with the Low -church party, the 
 Apocalypse is a kind of " Chamber of Horrors," 
 into which every criminal on a large scale is sure 
 to be introduced. Alexander and Mahomet are 
 spoken of there. So also is Bonaparte. And I 
 will be bound that, to the end of the world, there 
 will exist no great murderer, or assassin, or con- 
 queror (call him what you will), for whose recep- 
 tion into the bosom of Prophecy, a vacant text or 
 so will not be prepared by these ingenious com- 
 mentators and divines.] 
 
 I am aware that there are many Undergraduates 
 who will feel inclined to lay down my book at
 
 CANTAB, OR " SIM." 133 
 
 this stage, and ask with indignation whether my 
 portrait of a Sim be a true and correct one. " You 
 have represented them as the proudest of human 
 beings," some one will say, " whereas they are in 
 reality the most humble ; you have spoken of them 
 as holding salvation in their own hands — are they 
 not on the contrary of all men the most ready 
 to acknowledge their outi sinfulness ? You tell us 
 of their judging others — but you do not mention 
 the tears and bitter contrition, with which they 
 are daily accusing and condemning themselves." 
 Wait a minute my dear friend and objector! Is 
 it possible that you are so little acquainted with 
 the workings of the human mind as not to know 
 that there is such a thing as a morbid feeling of pride, 
 in making ourselves out to be worse than we really 
 are. "No humility," says Henry Taylor in his admi- 
 rable Notes from Life, " is thoroughly sound which 
 is not thoroughly truthful. The man who brings 
 misdirected or inflated accusations against himself, 
 does so in a false huraiUty, and will probably be 
 found to indemnify himself on one side or another." 
 You love to throw away your reputation, as it 
 
 N
 
 134 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL 
 
 were, by constantly calling yourself the most 
 miserable of sinners, in much the same spirit 
 that the degraded Indian is content to throw 
 away his life, beneath the chariot-wheels of the 
 Idol Juggernaut. In both cases there is a 
 kind of morbid pleasure to compensate for the 
 sacrifice of self; in both, a more than adequate 
 remuneration is expected by the sufferer. 
 
 I will mention to you a little circumstance 
 however, which rather makes me doubt the sin- 
 cerity of these self-accusations. 
 
 Not very long ago, I was induced to go and hear 
 
 a sermon preached by the Rev. Mr. , one of 
 
 the leading Evangelicals of this town. After 
 dividing his subject into heads, he proceeded to 
 enlarge upon each of them, in a very straight- 
 forward and sensible way, till at last he reached 
 the climax or culminating point of his discourse, 
 which was the part that more particularly rivetted 
 my attention. It consisted in a denunciation of 
 the sinfulness of the assembled congregation, and 
 was of a kind calculated to make the hearer hold 
 on by the edge of the pew, for fear cf falling down
 
 CANTAB, OR " SIM." 135 
 
 in a swoon. Amongst the greatest of sinners the 
 preacher specified himself; his soul was, accord- 
 ing to his own account, a loathsome and leprous 
 one. It was only by a miracle that he was per- 
 mitted to live at all. Night and morning, he felt a 
 sense of his own unworthiness, which nothing 
 could remove; a consciousness of degradation 
 which rendered an indulgence, on his part, in the 
 frivolous vanities of the world, not only highly 
 improper and undesirable, but utterly impossible. 
 In constant meditation and self-reproach lay his 
 only consolation and hope of acceptance with 
 heaven. 
 
 Well, my dear Sir, not very long afterwards, I 
 was honored by an invitation to meet the preacher 
 of this memorable sermon, at a dinner-party. 
 You \\ill not be surprised when I tell you that I 
 was extremely curious to see how an individual 
 overburthened with the consciousness of such tre- 
 mendous guilt, would conduct himself on a festive 
 occasion. Perhaps he would be in tears the whole 
 time! Probably, he would scarcely be able to raise 
 a morsel to his hot and feverish lips! 
 N 2
 
 136 THE ULTRA-EVANGELICAL CANTAB. 
 
 But, to mj unutterable astonishment and con- 
 sternation, this miserable sinner, this moral lej)er, 
 and daily offender against heaven, turned out to 
 be the most jovial fellow in the whole room! Sin, 
 that had made such fearful ravages in his mind, 
 had not apparently as yet reached his appetite. 
 He took wine with every one all round, and told 
 stories which made you die of laughter. Ah! 
 it will be a long time before I forget the pleasant 
 evening that I spent in company with that self- 
 reproaching and contrite, but tiu-bot- loving and 
 port-absorbing, sinner. 
 
 Now, my dear Snis, you have my reasons for 
 doubting whether you are all of you in such a 
 miserable state as you sometimes depict yourselves. 
 My anecdote you may call a sneer at religion, if 
 you like. But rest assured that it is a kind of 
 religion for which the worldly, that is to say, the 
 non-Evangelical part of the community will always 
 retain a very vulgar but expressive dissylabic 
 name — and that dissyllabic name is Humbug.
 
 137 
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 The Sporting Undergraduate, in common with 
 the Undergraduate who is fond of London life, 
 must be regarded as a mere branch or oif-shoot 
 from that great parent trunk of Fastness, at which 
 we have aimed a few ineffectual strokes, in a for- 
 mer part of our volume. Care must however be 
 taken not to include under the appellation of 
 " Sporting Men " persons who do not deserve to 
 be designated by that title. I look with the most 
 profound admiration and respect (founded on my 
 utter inability to do the thing myself) upon the 
 man who can ride at a stone wall, without holding 
 on by the saddle, and commending himself to 
 providence; I confess that I envy the individual 
 who is as certain of hitting the partridge at which 
 N 3
 
 138 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 he aims, as I am of not hitting the one at which I 
 aim. With such as these, the present chapter has 
 nothing whatever to do. They are Sportsmen, not 
 Sporting Men ; and between these two terms there 
 exists the same degree of difference, as between 
 the words "gentleman" and " gent." It is not these 
 sort of persons who bother you with an account 
 of the exploits which they have achieved. Their 
 reputation is estabhshed — they have no need of 
 going through the dirty work of building it up. 
 The man who tells you exultingly of the brooks 
 that he has ridden over, and the number of head 
 of game that he has bagged, is most commonly 
 the one that went half a mile round to avoid a 
 two-foot ditch, and who would in all probability 
 hit you in the hat or the calf of the leg, the very 
 first time that he went out shooting with you. 
 
 The Sporting Man then (according to the 
 meaning which I take the liberty of affixing to 
 the words) may be recognized by his having 
 something or other about him, which reminds 
 you forcibly of the stable. His coat is a cut-
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 139 
 
 away, and his trousers fit tightly over the boot. 
 The whole of the middle of his person is enveloped 
 by a long ostler-waistcoat, and his neck by a 
 scarf of bird's-eye blue. A fox's head, or a dog's 
 head, or a richly chased horse mth ruby eyes, 
 are the favorite devices on the top of his pin. He 
 is much given to huge over-coats, with saucer 
 buttons, and his hat, a very bad one (all Sporting 
 Men wear bad hats) is secured from being carried 
 off, by means of a string which is attached to one 
 of the button holes. 
 
 When not actually in his cap and gown, he 
 may be often distinguished from the professional 
 groom by his having a cigar in his mouth. He 
 makes a rule of turning round to examine every 
 horse that passes, and points critically with his 
 forefinger at the legs of the quadruped. Some- 
 times he will make a remark such as, " I'll be 
 bio wed if I don't know that nag. Where the deuce 
 can I have seen him before ! " At last it turns 
 out that he has seen him six years ago, standing 
 before the door of a public house in the south of
 
 140 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 Ireland. But bless you! he never forgets an 
 animal that he has once set eyes on. He can tell 
 all their diseases — and who knows, perhaps even 
 their pedigrees — as he sees them trot by. He is 
 the Burke and Debrett of horse-flesh. 
 
 The interior of a Sporting Man's apartment is 
 perhaps upon the whole a curiosity. Let us now 
 put a not very improbable case, and suppose that 
 as you are walking along revolving a problem, 
 you are suddenly seized in the fleshy part of the 
 leg by the jaws of Stubbs' dog— his playful little 
 poodle. You turn round and discover Stubbs 
 himself, laughing and grinning, and pufling out 
 tobacco-smoke, behind you. We will suppose that 
 his rooms are contiguous and that he asks you up 
 to have a glass of sherry, the least that he can do 
 after the painful occurrence just alluded to. " Eum 
 little fellow Spot is, isn't he? " he asks as you 
 walk along, " hope he didn't hurt you by the bye. 
 I taught him that trick myself" You do not how- 
 ever view the incident in the same facetious light 
 as your fiiend, nor indeed feel disposed to laugh
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 141 
 
 at all, until you see the trick played off on an 
 elderly gentleman in front, when you forget the 
 painful nature of your own sufferings in a keen 
 enjoyment of those which he is made to endure. 
 
 Well, we will suppose that you have arrived 
 at the door of the apartment. It is no sooner 
 opened by your host, than a strong smell, as of a 
 menagerie, strikes upon your olfactory nerves. 
 At the same time, three or four enormous dogs, 
 such as Scotch greyhounds, for example, glide play- 
 fully through your legs, and sniff around you in a 
 way which tends on the whole to render a man 
 unaccustomed to the canine race, uncomfortable. 
 You sink down upon a chair, but rise with a 
 shriek, having sat upon a ferret. Your host lays 
 down his " BelVs Life " and runs up to the ferret, 
 hoping he has not been hurt. Perhaps, if you are 
 a malicious man, your wishes will be rather on the 
 opposite side. I confess that mine were, upon an 
 occasion of a similar kind. 
 
 You will now, if you take the trouble of casting 
 a glance around you, perceive that the walls are
 
 142 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 covered with pictures, and that those pictures are 
 of three different kinds. Firstly, you may notice 
 the purely sporting engravings, such as that of 
 Tom Spa\tn on his horse Sancho Panza, at the 
 Liverpool Grand Steeple Chase — ^by the bye, look 
 at that chasm which he has just cleared. It must 
 be a hundred and thirty feet wide, at the very 
 least — the portraits of Cossack, &c., winners of 
 their respective Derbies; and the four interest- 
 ing engravings of the Chase, with a fiery red fox 
 cantering over intensely green grass under a vivid 
 blue sky. Then, secondly, there are what may be 
 called domestic sporting pictures, consisting of 
 that oil-painting there, of Mr. Stubbs on his cele- 
 brated stallion Gapster, and that over the mantel 
 piece of the greyhound Daddy Long-Legs, late 
 the property of Alfred Stubbs, Esquire. Lastly, on 
 the wall behind you, there are — well I don't want 
 you to look at them unless you like. I own that 
 they are slightly indelicate. They are common 
 however to many rooms besides those of the 
 Sporting Man. They are by eminent Parisian
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 143 
 
 artists, and are instances of the good taste and 
 sound moral feeling prevailing amongst the 
 painters of that great city. 
 
 In the left hand corner, stands Mr. Stubbs' 
 library. It is rather select than extensive, com- 
 prising for the most part Sporting Reviews and 
 Stud Books. The top shelf of the bookcase forms 
 a receptacle for hunting whips, spui's, powder- 
 flasks, spirit flasks, dirty buckskin gloves, and 
 other articles peculiar to the Sportsman. Above 
 the chimney piece and below the Portrait of 
 Daddf Long-Legs, just referred to, are tandem 
 whips, and fishing rods, together with a couple of 
 fox brushes, believed by credulous minds to have 
 been actually cut off the yet warm animal, by Stubbs 
 himself. On one side of the door, hangs the skin 
 of an orang-outang, which, he tells you, his brother 
 killed with a large stone, when walking out one 
 day in the neighbourhood of Palermo. On the 
 other, are to be seen the identical top-boots in 
 which he used to ride to hounds with the Pytchley, 
 at six years of age, I am inclined to look upon 
 these boots as the greatest chef-d(euvre in the
 
 144 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 whole room. The ingenious man who made them 
 (and whose name I will never reveal) is entitled 
 to the highest degree of credit. You see. in cases 
 like this, you have to look at your customer, and 
 then judging from his present height and size 
 what he is likely to have been at the age specified, 
 go to work accordingly. So that we are fairly 
 justified in ranking them as productions of very 
 high art. 
 
 In this elegant little apartment we will suppose 
 you to have sat for some short time, talking about 
 subjects with which you have but a small acquaint- 
 ance, though you may pretend (as probably you 
 will) to possess a good deal, such as the chances 
 of such and such a horse winning the next Derby, 
 or the prospects of the new Subscription Pack in 
 the south of France — when it is not unlikely that 
 you will be disturbed by a rap at the door. 
 " Come in! " says your host, and enter a rough- 
 looking individual surrounded by a few specimens 
 of the spaniel and retriever breed. He is come by 
 appointment to arrange a little bargain. " Good 
 Heavens! Stubbs," you exclaim, "why haven't
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 145 
 
 you got dogs enough already?" No Sir! that de- 
 lightful bitch, warranted to do almost anything that 
 you can name, is about to be added to your friend's 
 collection, or, in Sporting language, " to be drafted 
 into his kennel." A few " old " coats, and ser- 
 viceable waistcoats will complete the purchase- 
 money for that admirable little quadruped, who is 
 so exceedingly fast that she will have run clean 
 out of sight by the day after to-morrow, and so 
 extremely sagacious that I should not be surprized 
 if she managed to regain the home of her former 
 owner, after this temporary absence. However, 
 if this should prove the case, Stubbs will have 
 nobody but himself to blame. 
 
 The dog-fancier having taken his departure, 
 with one or two trifling articles which were not 
 perhaps expressly included in the contract, but 
 which the superiority of his genius has made his 
 own (a silver fork for instance, or a table spoon 
 or so), I can imagine a second rap at the door 
 taking place, and an ostler making his appearance 
 for beer. He took Mr. Stubbs' horse home last 
 night, and, feeling dry, has dropped in. (By the 
 o
 
 146 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 bye, what wonderful men those ostlers are. They 
 are always " dry." Their throats appear to be 
 like those of mummies. No moisture of any 
 sort can assuage the burning thirst to which they 
 are perpetual victims. Their stomachs resemble 
 Avernus, so easily and rapidly does everything 
 descend into them. For my part I confess that 
 when I read what the stomach is reported to be 
 capable of containing, of the bounds and limits 
 which nature has set to its expansive powers, and 
 then observe what that of an ostler does sometimes 
 manage to contain, my belief in the researches of 
 medical science is much shaken). 
 
 The ostler, then, having drained the contents of 
 the shining pewter, and obtained a cheroot or two 
 in answer to his question, "I say, Gov'nor, you 
 don't happen to have a bit of smoke in your 
 pocket, do you? " will possibly make way for the 
 stable-keeper, who will be succeeded, in his turn, 
 by the man who has arrived from Newmarket to 
 communicate important (and of course, strictly 
 secret) intelligence respecting the races. " Don't 
 you go saying as I told you, but take and lay
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 147 
 
 your money on Loo-choo," says he. There are 
 a set of these fellows, who regularly live upon 
 Sporting Undergraduates. Their tactics are sim- 
 ple enough. As they recommend to each separate 
 man a separate horse, they must of course pocket 
 a gratuity from some quarter or other. Their 
 favorite drink (when they can get it) is champagne. 
 On the departure of the prophet, it is not 
 altogether impossible that you will be startled by 
 the appearance of a man with a cage-ftil of rats, for 
 I know some sporting men who are much addicted 
 to the noble pastime of worrying that animal witb 
 dogs. There is an excitement in it, disconnected 
 from the inconvenience of personal danger^ which 
 cannot fail to be gratifying to the heart of every 
 true Briton ; but it is only, as I am told, in cases 
 where the dog himself is severely mauled before 
 mastering his antagonist, that the ne plus ultra of 
 delight is communicated to the practised spectator. 
 Or you may be rendered happy by an interview 
 with a cock-fighter, or a real jockey from New- 
 market, or a steeple-chase rider, or a member of 
 the Prize-Ring, for to some great ornaments of 
 2
 
 148 THE SPOETING CANTAB. 
 
 these and other professions I have myself been 
 introduced, at various times, in the rooms of my 
 Sporting friends. 
 
 And, on the whole, I think there will be no one 
 disposed to deny, that the number of riff-raff 
 whom these votaries of the turf claim as intimates, 
 is something tremendous in the extreme. I have 
 sometimes wondered what would be the feelings 
 of an affectionate mother, if she could only behold 
 her son sparring jocosely with Tommy Tipler, the 
 Barnewell Pet, or presiding at a choice little ban- 
 quet, where gin • sling is the beverage, and Chizzler 
 officiates as Vice. 
 
 Perhaps, however, we ought not to dwell too 
 long on those who minister to the pleasures of the 
 Sporting man. In their case we know whom we 
 have to deal with. It is their trade to cheat, their 
 misfortune to be coarse and vulgar. No one, for 
 instance, who boasted a grain of common sense, 
 would purchase a horse of Chizzler without first 
 obtaining a warranty, or at all events submitting 
 him to a veterinary surgeon. No man with ordi- 
 nary feelings of delicacy would think of inviting
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 149 
 
 Spavin to supper at his rooms, unless he knew 
 for certain that no undergraduate of respectability 
 was likely to drop in on that evening. It is their 
 education, their pursuits, their views of self-interest, 
 that have made these men what they are. We 
 know them to be unmannered, and unprincipled, 
 and respect them as such, but as for asking them 
 to see us, or meeting them at the festive parties 
 which they frequent, that is quite a different 
 question. 
 
 But if there be any one scene more than another 
 calculated to ruffle my angelic temperament, it is 
 the sight of a party of young fellows striving by 
 all the means in their power to ape the conduct of 
 their inferiors in station. Upon these occasions, 
 you almost long for the presence of a few, honest, 
 grog-blossomed faces from the stable, to relieve 
 the scene. You feel that you could bear to hear a 
 few rattling oaths from lips such as those, that 
 you wouldn't so much mind being informed by a 
 groom in plain terms that he had cheated another 
 groom. But one undergraduate — another under- 
 graduate! Proli pudor !
 
 150 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 At these banquets, or at any place where 
 Sporting men (and I am sorry to say, sometimes 
 Sportsmen) assemble, such as the Great MoguVs 
 Head for instance, the unsophisticated will hear 
 things calculated upon the whole to astonish his 
 weak nerves. He will hear matches planned and 
 bets made, and see money change hands in a way 
 that will altogether surprise him. However, he 
 must not be too hasty, and apply harsh terms to 
 what may be after all viewed in a very different 
 light by his fellow-students. I was myself nearly 
 falling a victim to this mistake the other day. 
 A friend of mine called upon me, and informed 
 me of his having won a large sum of money by 
 what I could not but consider unfair means. " It 
 is a very good imitation of swindling," I said to 
 him. " Swindling! " he replied, " not a bit of it. 
 Served the fool right. He'd no business to make 
 the bet. I didn't force him to do it. Why, I had 
 the same thing done to me when I first came 
 up by So-and-so," mentioning a man whom I 
 consider it an honour and a pride to be seen 
 walking with. And indeed his view of the case
 
 THE SPOETING CANTAB. 151 
 
 was borne out by all the Sporting men to whom I 
 mentioned the circumstances. So you see how 
 very nearly I was deeming that a swindle, which 
 was, after all, by the unanimous consent of those 
 who must be supposed to be better judges of such 
 transactions than I am, a very acute thing.
 
 152 
 
 THE SPORTING CxiNTAB. 
 
 CONTINUED. 
 
 I have done that which other great authors 
 have done before me. I have made a mistake. 
 The mistake to which I allude is in the commence- 
 of the last chapter. I there said that I felt a 
 respect for the man who could go over a stone 
 wall without holding on to the saddle. These 
 words ought to have been added, '■'- if he can afford 
 to 2^ay for the horse which he uses in going over the 
 wall aforesaid^ This is an important point, and 
 must not be overlooked. 
 
 Having therefore rectified this error, or rather 
 omission, it may be expected by some, that I 
 should proceed to give some account of the out- 
 door life of the Sportsman. Such indeed was my 
 wish, rather than my fixed intention, for to tell
 
 THE SPORTIXG CANTAB. 153 
 
 the truth, owing to a habit of tumbling off my 
 horse, which is natural to me, I have never with 
 any success cultivated the sports of the field. It 
 would have been consequently rather difficult for 
 me to describe in appropriate terms the pleasui-es 
 of the chase — pleasures which I have never once 
 tasted. In this state of circumstances I was 
 relieved from my difficulty by a communication 
 from a highly intelligent American gentleman, 
 who has been stopping in this country for some 
 months, and who has placed at my disposal an 
 extract from the work about England, which he 
 intends to publish on his return to his native 
 country. It appears that amongst other places, he 
 visited the University of Cambridge, and there 
 enjoyed an opportunity of making himself con- 
 versant with the habits of the Sporting man. 
 Having said thus much, I make no apology for 
 appending such passages from his diary as I think 
 likely to interest the reader. 
 
 Dec. 6. Arrived at the University of Cambridge, 
 which is fine upon the whole, though not equal to
 
 154 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 that of tlie same name in Massacliusets. I learnt 
 from a young student whom I saw drinking 
 brandy and water in the coffee-room of my hotel, 
 and with whom I fell into conversation, that Greek 
 and Latin are at a terribly low ebb here, and that 
 the Examiners are not impartial men. What a 
 contrast to our own enlightened land, where 
 Professor Eamsbottham of Buffalo, and Doctor 
 Sisyphus Wicks, are known, no less for their 
 erudition than their uniform justice, over all the 
 civilised globe! 
 
 Saw an instance this morning of the exclusive- 
 ness of European institutions. Three or four young 
 gentlemen walked into the hotel, in gowns of blue, 
 embroidered with silver brocade. Was informed 
 that they were the sons of the British noblemen, 
 who make a point of dressing them in this way, to 
 distinguish them from the herd of students. How 
 sickening is the adulation of these sycophantic 
 English ! 
 
 By the way, I got introduced to these three 
 young aristocrats. 
 
 (Here follow about five and twenty pages.
 
 THE SPOETING CANTAB. 155 
 
 containing an accurate report of the traveller's 
 
 conversation with the scions of nobility, including 
 
 a nainute account of their families, ancestral seats, 
 
 personal appearance, annual income of their parents, 
 
 &c., &c., which I think it better to omit). 
 
 ♦ * ♦ * * * 
 
 Dec. 7. Went, by special invitation of my 
 friend Viscount Belmont, to see a pastime which I 
 am told is much indulged in at the various Univer- 
 sities of England, as well as the Colleges of Eton, 
 Winchester and Westminster. It is called Drug- 
 Hunting, and consists in this. A man, mounted 
 on horseback, is sent on about ten minutes in 
 advance, who draws after him a rabbit- skin tied 
 to the end of a long rope, and steeped in some 
 powerfully smelling drug, whence the name. After 
 the ten minutes have elapsed, at a given signal, a 
 pack of strong and swift dogs are let loose, who, 
 attracted by the odour, run straight upon his trail. 
 At the same time, a large body of students, well 
 mounted, dash after the hounds, who thus act as 
 their guides. If none of these should succeed in 
 catching the rider who has gone on with the
 
 156 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 rabbit-skin, before he reach a certain point (gene- 
 rally the steeple of a church) which is agreed on 
 beforehand, they all pay him forfeit; if on the 
 contrary, any one catches him, he pays forfeit all 
 round, and a sovereign extra (as my informant 
 stated) to the one that caught him. Of course, a 
 great deal depends upon the swiftness of the horses, 
 but much also on the courage and skill of those 
 that ride them. The post of dragging the rabbit- 
 skin is I suppose (though I have no specific infor- 
 mation on that head) taken by each of the sub- 
 scribing students in turn. The day I was out, it 
 was drawn by a short, light-haired student, who 
 appeared to be much beloved by his fellows, being 
 called by the familiar name of " Jemmy." He was 
 the only one that acknowledged my presence, 
 which he did by respectfully taking off his hat as 
 I rode up. I have no doubt that he saw something 
 in my appearance, which convinced him that 1 was 
 of the great American nation. He seemed to be a 
 good-natured well-informed young gentleman, and 
 except that he asked me whether I had got " a bit 
 of smoke " in my pocket, which is an odious cox-
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAE. 157 
 
 combical term, which the upper class of English 
 have adopted to signify a cigar, I had no fault to 
 find with his manners. 
 
 By his side, rode a benevolent-looking, middle- 
 aged gentleman of portly figure, whom from his 
 exercising considerable authority in the field, I 
 presume to have been an university officer {Proctor 
 I think they call him) sent out to superintend the 
 sport, and see that no accident happens. A very 
 prudent precaution this. 
 
 When we had ridden for some miles along the 
 great mail road to Huntingdon (Lord B., I, and 
 the other two gentlemen, were considerably in 
 advance of the rest of the party), we all stopped at 
 an inn, which it appears had been agreed upon as 
 the starting post. We had not been here long 
 when about twenty more students, in various cos- 
 tumes, galloped up to the door, and amongst 
 them was one who appeared to be the acknow- 
 ledged head of the club, whom, from his super- 
 cilious manner, and the contemptuous tone in 
 which he addressed me, I imagine to have been a 
 Duke at the very least. The student, '' Jemmy^" 
 p
 
 158 THE SPOUTING CANTAB. 
 
 having here taken leave of us to set forth on his 
 neck-or- nothing ride, we spent the interval in 
 imbibing Guinness, half-and half, Betts' brandy, 
 and the other British national drinks. Some of 
 the young gentlemen present would not have done 
 discredit to the wild orgies of our own enthusiastic 
 Kentucky. They laughed loudly, and swore, and 
 poked each other with the ends of their hunting 
 whips, making pretend to fence with those articles 
 as with small swords, and considering it apparently 
 as the height of the fun, when one or other 
 received a smart rap across the knuckles. "When- 
 ever a fresh party dropped in to order more ''goes," 
 I observed that each and all of them stared at me 
 as though I had been, not a citizen of the freest 
 and greatest country in the world, but an opossum 
 or a negro. There was a stout, ruddy -faced girl 
 too, serving out the drinks, at whom they leered 
 prodigiously. 
 
 At length, after nearer forty than ten minutes 
 had been spent at this kind of work, the signal 
 was given " to horse," and we all trotted about a 
 hundred yards down the road, to the place where
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 159 
 
 the hounds were to be let loose. This was done 
 in a whiffy, and off they dashed across hedge and 
 ditch, followed by the mounted students, with the 
 exception of one fat little fellow, who appeared to 
 be unable to screw his courage to the sticking 
 point, for after having tumbled off his horse at 
 the first fence, he wisely came back again into the 
 road through a gap, and set off in the direction of 
 home. With this exception, and that of myself 
 and the University Proctor before alluded to, the 
 whole body sped away like a flight of arrows. The 
 Proctor had agreed to conduct me down a bye-lane, 
 by pursuing which route we should not only be 
 able to see the greater part of the run, but also 
 have the advantage of witnessing the finish. Now 
 although I could easily have over-matched any of 
 these young Europeans in the art of riding, yet, 
 as I had somewhat injured my leg the night 
 before, I thought it best to close with his offer. 
 We soon arrived at a situation, which afforded us 
 a view of the whole field, and a beautiful sight 
 it was to see that compact body of horsemen dash- 
 ing, as if for very life, over the rising wheat. I 
 p 2
 
 160 THE SPOETING CAKTAB. 
 
 observed that there were some three or four lead- 
 ing the way, who tiirned neither to the right hand 
 nor the left, but put their horses at every jump iu 
 gallant style, and stuck to them like a mustard 
 poultice. Behind these, again, there came another 
 body who did not ride quite so boldly as the first 
 lot, but managed to get over their leaps neverthe- 
 less. And last of all, there came three or four 
 (who had talked most largely about their prowess 
 at the inn) who turned pale with horror and 
 affright whenever they came to a jump, most 
 commonly breaking through the hedges and 
 widening the gaps, and doing, I should imagine, 
 more mischief to the farmers than all the rest put 
 together. Every now and then I could see one of 
 these drop off, and rise begrimed with mud, and 
 one in particular I noticed, who after he had met 
 with an accident of this kind, took up two or 
 three handfuls of dirt, and plastered them over 
 his horse's head and chest, no doubt to induce the 
 belief that they had both come down together. 
 The thing that astonished me most, however, was 
 the presence, or rather the absence of hounds, for
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 161 
 
 of these animals there were only two that could at 
 all keep up with the huntsmen, and these two, 
 when I last caught a glimpse of them, were 
 running in different directions. 
 
 After trotting on for some time at a brisk pace, 
 we stopped at last at a gate, where the Proctor 
 told me it was probable that they would all cross 
 the lane. The scene which here presented itself 
 was so peculiar and, at the same time, charac- 
 teristic of British civilization, that I may be 
 excused for dwelling upon it for a moment. Fancy 
 twenty fellows — ^ragged and dirty, as you see the 
 misgoverned Irish represented in the prints — 
 armed with huge sticks and stones, yelling forth 
 hideous cries, and thirsting for the blood of their 
 enemies. Such were the bandits whom I beheld 
 drawn up in battle array, within a few miles of 
 her Majesty's University of Cambridge. Amongst 
 them there moved a man, dressed like a farmer, who 
 appeared to direct their evolutions, and was no 
 doubt the Captain of the Gang. You can imagine 
 nothing more hideous and repulsive than the faces 
 of his men ; and I thought that they looked at the 
 r 3
 
 162 THE SPOETING CANTAB. 
 
 Proctor as lie rode up to them, with an expression 
 of a particularly sinister kind. 
 
 I confess that on first catching a glimpse of 
 these ruflians, I formed the intention of turning 
 round my horse, and galloping as fast as I could 
 in the direction of home. Seeing, however, that 
 no one made any attempt to step out of the ranks 
 and seize me, and that my friend, the Proctor, had 
 already gone up and addressed the ringleader, I 
 determined to draw up within a few paces of the 
 band, so as to be ready either to go to the 
 assistance of my companion (whose courage I 
 could not help admiring) or to provide for my own 
 safety, according as a necessity for either course 
 might arise. 
 
 What passed between the two I failed to hear 
 distinctly, at the distance at which I was standing, 
 but the university officer seemed to me to be 
 endeavouring to pacify the outlaw. From the 
 angry gestures of the latter, I gathered that he 
 refused to be talked over, and that he would per- 
 sist in his original intention, whatever that might 
 be. Meanwhile my thoughts insensibly reverted
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 163 
 
 to my own sweet peaceful country, and I set 
 myself to think what could possibly be the object 
 of the assemblage of this tumultuous band. 
 
 I was not long suffered to remain in doubt. 
 We could now see the Drug-Riders advancing 
 through the field next to the lane. No sooner had 
 the first half-dozen or so crossed the small hedge 
 which leads into this lane on the one side, and, 
 galloping down for a few yards, prepared to leap 
 the five-barred gate at which we had taken up 
 our position, than the villainous cut-throats sprang 
 upon them in a mass. The whole thing was so 
 instantaneous, that we had been unable to warn 
 them of their danger. Besides, I doubt not but 
 that our lives would have been forfeited, if we 
 had attempted such a thing. So that all we could 
 do, was to remain as though impassive spectators 
 of the brutal scene. The sight that met my eyes 
 at this moment would, if described accurately, seem 
 incredible to a man who deemed the English to be 
 anything but barbarians. Sticks and stones dar- 
 kened the air — student and bandit were in one 
 place locked together in deadly combat — in
 
 1G4 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 
 
 another, some horse without a rider was galloping 
 wild and exultant along the road- Blood flowed 
 everywhere like water, and cracked skulls and 
 broken noses were as plentiful as pretty faces in 
 the Broadway. Such ferocity I have never seen, 
 not even in the back settlements of Arkansas or 
 Missouri. Indeed I heard one man declare that he 
 should like to tear out the eyes of the other, from 
 which it is but too evident that the degrading 
 practice of "gouging," so much censured by 
 British writers, and which flourishes in some of 
 our newly acquired possessions alone, is here at 
 its height, even in the most civilized counties, 
 within a mile or two of the greatest university in 
 the land! Qiiis tiderit G^xicchos de seditione 
 querentes ? Oh, these Britons ! 
 
 After, however, the conflict had raged for some 
 time, a great change was effected in the relative 
 position of the combatants, by the arrival of the rest 
 of the Drug-Hunters, about fifteen in number. The 
 banditti had evidently not calculated on this 
 reinforcement. They were soon put to flight, and 
 many of them severely handled. About this time
 
 THE SPORTING CANTAB. 165 
 
 my natural valour getting the better of my pru- 
 dence, I could not help joining in the fight. Like 
 the Prussians at Waterloo, I threw myself upon 
 the flying foe, and helped to consummate the rout. 
 The list of casualties on our side was not upon 
 the whole a large one, and fortunately no lives 
 were lost. After a short delay we retired from 
 the field, victorious and triumphant. 
 
 I afterwards learned that the band had attacked 
 them, not for the purpose of pillage, but 'to inter- 
 cept their progress, and by direction of the farmers. 
 These latter, being of opinion that drug-hunting is 
 injurious to their land, whenever they can gather 
 tidings as to where the meet is likely to be, assem- 
 ble their retainers together, and endeavour by 
 force to repel the huntsmen from their fields. I 
 am told that in these encounters lives are daily 
 lost, but that neither the University nor the 
 Police have any power to stop them. And this in 
 the very middle of the pretended mistress of the 
 world! Oh, the arrant conceit of some nations! 
 Thus ends my experience of the Cambridge 
 Drug.
 
 166 
 
 A WORD TO THE PUBLIC SCHOOL CANTAB. 
 
 I am not myself a public school man. I am 
 unable to boast that I have received what Httle 
 learning I may enjoy from any of our illustrious 
 pedagogues, either orally or otherwise. There are 
 no reminiscenses of the " silver- winding " Thames, 
 to intermingle with the dreams of my early boy- 
 hood ; no memories of tall old oaks, beneath whose 
 venerable shade the boys were wont to sit, talking 
 of great men who had sat there before them, in 
 times long passed away; no recollections of dark 
 old mouldering cloisters, re-echoing sadly to the 
 passing footstep; no vision of the Provost or 
 Warden, in all the majesty of full canonicals, 
 sailing up to the college chapel on a saint's day; 
 no family feeling as connected with my place of 
 education, that my father and grandfather and
 
 PUBLIC SCHOOL CANTAB. 167 
 
 great-grandfather learned their lessons in the 
 same room that I did, and were flogged upon the 
 same block where I was flogged — none of these 
 pleasing sensations throng my mind at the meation 
 of the familiar words " school-days." 
 
 These words rather serve to recall to me a tall, 
 square house of modem appearance, built with 
 bricks of a glaring red colour, on the door of 
 which two bells, one labelled " House " and the 
 other " School," might be seen by the passers by. 
 They remind me further of a play-ground, strewn 
 with gravel, on the walls of which were suspended 
 the cages which held our linnets and our squirrels 
 — our favourites of the earth and the air. Of a 
 long dusty walk on summer's days, when (with 
 the exception of the first class) we sallied forth 
 two and two, under the superintendence - of the 
 red-haired usher. Of one walk, each week, longer 
 and dustier than the rest, when we defiled in 
 single row down the nave of the chapel of ease, 
 and trembled under the pulpit, vibrating to the 
 preacher's blows, and listened deferentially to the
 
 168 A WORD TO THE 
 
 snoring of the master's wife. Of dreadfully bad 
 dinners awaiting us on our return, and beer that 
 was more like senna and salts than what it pro- 
 fessed to be. Of puddings that we used to call by 
 ingenious names, such as " hide and seek," in 
 which the currants, few in number, were supposed 
 by a pleasant fiction, actually to secrete themselves 
 from our search in masses of adamantine suet. 
 Of being sent off in a troop to bed at an early 
 hour, and listening from the landing place, with 
 unutterable feelings, to the tantalizing clinking of 
 glasses and plates in the masters parlour. Of 
 tallowing the handle of the door against the usher 
 came to take away our candles. Of all sorts of 
 unromantic and common -place incidents, in a word, 
 much too undignified to be dwelt upon, and far too 
 well known to need repetition. 
 
 You see, the probability is that if you set a 
 man talking about his early days, he will talk for 
 a much longer time than you will choose to listen. 
 There is this danger also that he will do what I 
 have done, viz. desert the subject which he proposed
 
 PUBLIC SCHOOL CANTAB. 169 
 
 to himself at the outset, to plunge into a kind of 
 autobiography. Begging pardon of my reader 
 therefore for so unwarrantable a digression, I will 
 at once inform him of what this prelude of remi- 
 niscences was intended to convey. It is this. If 
 a public school man can claim any advantage over 
 him who has been unfortunate enough to receive 
 his education at a private seminary, it will be 
 in the associations of the place to which he looks 
 back as the cradle of his dawning faculties, in the 
 recollection of the great and good men who 
 flourished there before him, in the aspirations 
 which wiU thus be fostered within him, in 
 the determination not to disgrace that great 
 training school which they have adorned by 
 their talent, or exalted by their piety. If he 
 must be constantly talking and boasting in our 
 presence about Harrow, or Eton, or^Winchester, 
 let his boast be founded upon considerations such 
 as these, and we will listen to him. We private 
 school boys have no quid pro quo to offer, we 
 have manifestly the worst of it, and can no more 
 exalt our festival of fireworks and currant wine on 
 Q
 
 170 A WORD TO THE 
 
 the fifth of November into a JDomum or Montem, 
 than we can venture to term Dr. Jones or the Rev. 
 John Robinson, a rival Arnold or a second Keate. 
 
 But when (as I have constantly observed to 
 take place at breakfast parties and other dense 
 assemblages of Cantabs) I, A. B., educated at Dr. 
 Hick's Academy, St. John's Wood, shall find 
 myself the astonished centre of a party of public 
 school men, on what think you will the conversa- 
 tion for the most part turn? Let us suppose that 
 they are Etonians — what will form the theme of 
 their discourse? The genius of Canning? The 
 poetry of Gray ? Will they favor you with des- 
 criptions of the old " Montem," or talk pleasingly 
 and sensibly of the good to be derived from a 
 residence amongst those classic shades? No such 
 thing. They will gabble together about Cother- 
 STONE Major — how he licked a bargee; about 
 SwABBS who had the reputation of getting his tutor's 
 fat Scotch cook with child ; about Bogglinton who 
 was six feet high, and had fags when he Avas 
 himself in the Lower School — ^you all the time 
 knowing no more, who Cotherstone and SwAiiBS
 
 PUBLIC SCHOOL CANTAB. 171 
 
 and BoGGLiNTON are, than you do who is the 
 ruler of Eome at this present moment. 
 
 Now, suppose just for one single instant, what 
 would be the result if I were first to catch my 
 Etonian or Harrovian, and then turn him loose in 
 the midst of a party of eleven of us young gents 
 brought up at Dr. Hicks's. Suppose further, that 
 we were to form ourselves in little knots round 
 him, and discuss our adventures at the apple- 
 woman's round the corner, or detailed how we 
 smuggled in toffy through a chink in the play-, 
 ground wall. Is it not probable that he would go 
 away under the impression that we were exceedingly 
 iU-bred young fellows, to be continually harping 
 upon a theme, in which from the nature of circum- 
 stances, it was impossible for him to join? 
 
 Not but that I am ready to confess that with 
 all men, the remembrance of their boyish days 
 forms an unfailing subject of discoiu-se. The 
 propensity to talk in this way is, I daresay, as 
 common to the Hickites as to the Etonians ; but 
 then you see there are too few of the former at 
 this university to enable them to gratify those 
 Q 2
 
 172 THE PUBLIC SCHOOL CANTAB. 
 
 propensities to the annoyance of the rest of the 
 company; whereas the latter are so numerous, 
 that I absolutely turn pale with affright and 
 apprehension, whenever I am invited out to break- 
 fast at the rooms of one of that fraternity. 
 
 Let my public school friends pardon me for 
 thus adverting to their failing — a failing which 
 though they share it with many others, they have 
 an opportunity of rendering ten thousand times 
 more prominent and disagreeable than any one else. 
 No well-constituted Englishman would think of 
 talking Latin, or whispering, in mixed Society. 
 Verhum sap. To us the stories of Knox, and 
 Wiggins, and Stiggins, are as an unknown tongue. 
 
 If I could indulge in the hope that these few 
 remarks of mine would lead to an alteration in 
 this respect (however slight), if I ventured to 
 expect that, for the future, the Undergraduate fresh 
 from Eton or Harrow, or Westminster, would talk 
 less " shop " than formerly, and confine himself 
 to subjects in which the minority of his guests 
 would be on a par with the majority, I should 
 not regret that I had addressed this short word of 
 remonstrance to the Public School Man.
 
 173 
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB, 
 
 DESCRIPTIVE OF THE AUTHOR. 
 
 Mcya j8t/?Xiov /acya KaKov is, as I am informed 
 by my classical friends, an old proverb which 
 being interpreted, signifies " A long book is a 
 most dreadful nuisance." Now, without venturing 
 to question the applicability of this proverb to the 
 time when it was originally written or spoken, I 
 am yet of opinion that its ingenious author, had he 
 lived at the present day, would have taken a 
 slightly different view of the matter. He would 
 have directed his attention to the small books 
 instead of the large ones. He would have ex- 
 claimed, MiKpov jSifSXiov fxeya KttKov, which being 
 freely interpreted, might be taken to signify, 
 " The elementary treatises — the shilling books at 
 Q 3
 
 174 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 the railway stalls — the Social Zoologies — the Men 
 in the Moon, et hoc genus omne, are indeed most 
 dreadful nuisances." 
 
 Should I be unhappily followed in this latter view 
 of the case, the fate of this little publication is 
 of course certain. To those however who feel 
 inclined to condemn it without reserve, I would 
 respectfully say, " Pause and reflect ! Eemember 
 the golden rule of acting towards others, as you 
 would have others act towards you. You may 
 write a shilling book one of these daj^s yourself. 
 Nay, judging from the number that are constantly 
 being issued, the probability is that you will. 
 When that day comes (and it may come sooner 
 than you expect) may it be your proud boast that 
 you have merited the favor and goodwill of the 
 public, by the uniform indulgence which you have 
 yourself extended, towards those who have been 
 placed in a like painful predicament." 
 
 I could not however conclude this short series 
 of sketches, which I feel to be miserably imperfect 
 (for are there not the Cricketing Undergraduate, 
 the Musical Undergraduate, the Theatrical Under-
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 175 
 
 graduate, the Literary Undergraduate, the Sizar, 
 the Johnian, the Queen's man, and many other 
 species of Undergraduates still untouched upon?), 
 without holding up to the notice of the reader a 
 specimen of the Model Undergraduate, — whom 
 he may propose to himself as an example for 
 imitation, and safely copy in every particular. 
 
 Big with this idea, which became the more 
 firmly fixed in my mind, the more I considered 
 the importauce of working it out, I sought the 
 society of all those with whom I could claim 
 acquaintance. I frequented their breakfast parties, 
 and asked them in return to mine. The extent to 
 which I drank fiery wines and smoked British 
 cigars, would do credit to some of oiu* very fastest 
 men. 
 
 Not content with this mode of proceeding, I 
 enrolled myself as a member of several of our 
 clubs and societies. The Backgammon Club, the 
 Cornet-a- piston Club, the Geological and Ana- 
 tomical Society, the United Society of Belles 
 LettreSj and many others that the time would fail 
 me to enumerate. I sought the Plough at the
 
 176 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 epoch of the boat races, and dined Avith our club 
 at the end of the term ; I danced at the Bachelor's 
 ball, and prayed in some of our most frequented 
 churches and chapels of ease. In short, I neglected 
 no effort to bring to light some individual capable 
 of sitting for my proposed portrait of the Model 
 Undergraduate. 
 
 But my endeavours (as is for the most part 
 found to be the case) were miserably unsuccessful. 
 It w^ould be impossible to detail all those cases in 
 which ultimate disappointment followed upon the 
 first joyfully conceived hope that I had found my 
 man. One or two instances, however, I may be 
 permitted to cite briefly, as they Avill serve as 
 specimens of the rest. 
 
 In WiLKiNS I thought for some time that I had 
 discovered the Model Undergraduate. With com- 
 manding talents and agreeable manners, was 
 united, in his case, a soul capable of appreciating 
 all that is truly high and ennobling in art. The 
 productions of Landseer or of Wilkie, he deemed 
 good enough in their way, but it was before the 
 paintings of the ancient masters, especially those
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 177 
 
 of the Dutch school, that he would stand for some 
 time as though entranced. Through his instruc- 
 tions I was not long in perceiving that in such 
 pieces as " the Blind Fiddler'^ or " the March to 
 Finchley,'* there is nothing great, classical, soul- 
 elevating— qualities which rather attach to repre- 
 sentations of naked nymphs, mediaeval saints, 
 interiors of Flemish cottages, and the like. He 
 taught me, that to be good, a picture, or a statue, 
 or a building, must be either ancient or strictly in 
 imitation of the antique. In a word, I was so 
 much pleased with the taste and good sense of my 
 preceptor, as well as flattered by the interest 
 which he eAddently took in my progress towards a 
 sense of the Ideal and the Ennobling, that I 
 determined to select him as the hero of this chap- 
 ter, and with this intent, after inviting him to my 
 room, commenced reading to him extracts from 
 that work in which it was intended that he should 
 play so conspicuous a part. He expressed him- 
 self delighted with my offer, and sank into an 
 easy chair, chuckling (as I then thought) at the 
 idea of the treat which I was about to give him.
 
 178 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 For some time " all went merry as a marriage 
 bell," there was scarcely a sentence but was 
 punctuated with an " Excellent! " or a " Bravo! " 
 from the mouth of Wilkins, and although after a 
 few pages I missed these interruptions, yet I did 
 not doubt that he was all the while silently enjoy- 
 ing what — perhaps from fear of being thought to 
 flatter — ^he refrained from commending openly. 
 But alas ! how were my expectations disappointed. 
 To use the next line in the poem, to that which I 
 have quoted above, and which is equally applicable, 
 " Hush! hark, a deep sound strikes like a " — not 
 exactly like a "funeral knell" either, but more like 
 a person snoring — yes indeed, I shudder to use the 
 word, but so it was, snoring! On looking up I 
 found that my friend (if I can any longer make 
 up my mind to call such a fellow by the term 
 friend) was asleep. Here M'^as a pretty confirma- 
 tion of his pretended taste for all that is Great 
 and Ennobling. The Impostor ! — of course I at 
 once erased his name from my list of candidates 
 for the Model Undergraduateship. 
 
 In the case of Pidcock my disappointment was,
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 179 
 
 if possible, still greater than in that of Wilkins. 
 Learned without conceit, and deeply read without 
 pedantry, he was the delight not only of his 
 intimate friends, but also of the numerous circles 
 in which he casually made his appearance. He 
 was at once a Dr. Johnson in all but rough- 
 ness, a Don Juan in every-thing except vice. He 
 had furthermore endeared himself to me by many 
 courteous acts, so that no one will feel any 
 surprize that upon the failure of the miserable 
 Wilkins, I should have selected him to fill the 
 vacant post. Indeed, I actually went so far as 
 to draw up what I conceived to be a fair out- 
 line of his character, to which, that there might 
 be no mistake about the individual whom I was 
 holding up as an example for your imitation, I 
 added a description of his face and person. This 
 description, at a convenient opportunityo I placed 
 in his hands, thinking it but just that he should 
 see what I had written about him, before the 
 operation of printing rendered it impossible for 
 me to make any reasonable alteration that he 
 might desire.
 
 180 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 My friend had not read many lines of the 
 chapter, when he suddenly started up with the 
 exclamation, " I think. Smith, you have made a 
 mistake here." "Indeed!" I replied, "pray to 
 what part do you allude ? " 
 
 " To that in which you give a portrait of my 
 personal appearance. See here. Listen ' He is 
 about the average height, compactly but not 
 clumsily built; the expression of his face is not 
 upon the whole unlike that of the distinguished 
 statesman. Sir James Graham. ' " "Well," said I, 
 " you surely don't object to anything in that?" 
 
 "No, not at all — that is all very well. But 
 here comes the objectionable part, ' His hair is red, 
 and a pair of enormously bushy whiskers orna- 
 ment his cheeks.' Now upon my word, I think 
 that if you look at my hair, you will find that you 
 have made a mistake. You will, upon my word." 
 " Well, really," I answered, laughing, "I can't see 
 what you mean. Pray, now what colour should 
 you pronounce it to be yourself. Not red? '' 
 
 " No." 
 
 " What then? "
 
 the model cantab. 181 
 
 " Auburn." 
 
 " What do you say!" 
 
 " I repeat it — Auburn." 
 
 " Pidcock, my boy," said I, " it's foolish quar- 
 relling about a word. We will, if you please, 
 leave out the description of your face altogether, 
 and so avoid a dispute." 
 
 " No," he replied, "that is a compromise which 
 I shall not submit to. If I appear at all, it shall 
 be with the description left as it is, with the sole 
 change of auburn for red, in relation to the hair, 
 and neatly trimmed for enormously bushy with re- 
 spect to the whiskers. On no other condition will 
 I consent to sit as your model." 
 
 As I could not, upon principle, agree to this^ the 
 negociation was of course at an end, and I was 
 left once more to my own resources, to ferret out 
 an individual suitable for my purpose. The above 
 furnish only two out of many examples which I 
 could give of the harassing nature of this pursuit. 
 It is true that by noting down the chief good 
 qualities and virtues of my various friends, I might 
 have worked them all up into one compact and 
 
 R
 
 182 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 ideal portrait of perfection. But, upon the whole, 
 there are great disadvantages attendant upon such 
 a plan as this, and as it struck me that it would be 
 better to hold up the portrait of a flesh and blood 
 man, than a shadowy outline of perfection itself; 
 so, I determined, like the Indian on the track of 
 his foe, not to rest until I had hunted down the 
 man who, I was sure, must be somewhere or other 
 before me. 
 
 Suddenly my good Genius whispered (and strange 
 it is that he should never, have made the remark 
 before), that the person whom I sought was 
 actually with me. That he had been with me for 
 a long period; for twenty-four years and four 
 months. That he ate when I ate, drank when I 
 drank, and was carried off to bed when I was 
 carried off to bed. In a word, that it was myself. 
 
 With this straight-forward and sensible remark 
 of the Genius it is needless to say that I at once 
 acquiesed. With the joy caused by the discovery 
 was, however, mingled a sense of shame at not 
 having made it before this. I felt too much like the 
 old gentleman who has been looking about for his
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 183 
 
 pair of spectacles, and finds at last that he has 
 them upon his own nose. I was determined, there- 
 fore, to atone for this want of penetration, by de- 
 scribing my character (now that I had, as it were, 
 got hold of myself) in as accurate a manner as 
 possible, and without the slightest particle of con- 
 ceit or affectation. Egotism of any kind, it is quite 
 needless to say that I abhor. Whether, then, the 
 portrait which I am about to offer to your notice 
 be a correct one or not must be decided by those 
 who enjoy the privilege of my acquaintance, and 
 who, I am quite sure, will acquit me of any inten- 
 tion to magnify my good qualities unduly, or to 
 put forth claims to w^hich I am but slightly, or 
 perhaps in nowise, entitled. 
 
 To commence, therefore, with what we wall 
 by your permission call thus : 
 
 Section I, — Of my Personal Appearance and 
 Mode of Dress. 
 
 I stand five feet eleven inches in height (six feet 
 two in my Wellingtons), and though corpulent, as 
 I have before taken occasion to remaik, yet not so 
 R 2
 
 184 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 mucli so as to appear in any way unwieldy or un- 
 graceful. My hair is as dark as ebony ; my eyes 
 are of a deep and languid blue colour, and my 
 nose, whicli some detractors have not hesitated to 
 object to as a " snub," would, I am quite sure — if it 
 were only possible for us to conjure up the faces 
 of a few departed Athenians — be found to be built 
 and bridged, strictly after the most approved Greek 
 model. 
 
 With regard to dress, I have always felt it to be 
 a duty to follow the fashions of the place in which 
 I was residing. At the University of Heidelberg, 
 I was not ashamed to adopt, in common with others 
 of my countrymen, the cloth caj^s, the baggy trou- 
 sers, the blouses, and the meerschaum pipes, to 
 which the students of that seat of true learning 
 are so inordinately attached. In Turkey, I 
 unhesitatingly acquiesced in the tui'ban of the 
 natives; and at Paris, should most certainly have 
 started a moustache, but for circumstances which 
 it would be useless to specify. — Not that I would 
 advise any one to follow this rule too closely, 
 as it might lead to consequences which the
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 185 
 
 refined mind shudders to contemplate. Amongst 
 Hottentots, for instance, one might decline reducing 
 one's wardrobe to the solitary article of a fig-leaf; 
 nor, indeed, should I much relish the process of 
 adorning myself with the scalps of my enemies, as 
 would appear to be the custom with certain de- 
 graded tribes. These, however, are extreme cases, 
 with which the reader and I will probably never 
 have anything to do. Generally, it may be laid 
 down, that that mode of dress is the most suitable 
 which seems most in accordance with the taste of 
 those around you. 
 
 Agreeably to this great principle, from the 
 moment that I was admitted a proud and happy 
 member of this University, I have never ceased to 
 adopt those distingue garments which serve to mark 
 out the Cantab in every quarter of the civilized 
 globe. My coat is neither a frock coat, nor a cut- 
 away, nor again a shooting jacket, but a sort of 
 compound of all three. My waistcoat, which is made 
 of a rough material, and reaches almost down to the 
 knees, is ornamented at the sides by several huge 
 flap pockets, and fui'ther beautified by a long row 
 R 3
 
 186 THE MODEL CANTAB, 
 
 of glistening buttons, which have been recom- 
 mended to me by my tailor as quite selon les regies. 
 My trousers fit tightly over the boot ; — but of these 
 it would be impossible to attempt a description, 
 some being of plaid, others striped, others again of 
 magnificent and striking patterns. A very loose 
 yellow and blue handkerchief, tied in front with 
 an enormous bow, permits the whole of my alabaster 
 neck to remain on view, and my head is sur- 
 mounted by a hat of the glossiest white. 
 
 My shirts, on which I much pride myself, are 
 of three kinds or styles. The pure, or plain white 
 cambric for home consumption; the ornamented, 
 (to borrow a term from the sister art of Architec- 
 ture) embodying figures of ladies' hands, ship- 
 cables, small nosegays, and the like; and the 
 FLORID, breaking out into tortuous serpents, cab- 
 bages, cricketers, ballet-girls, and trifles of that 
 sort. Of these the ornamented are pronounced by 
 Wilkins to be most in accordance with the princi- 
 ples of high-art, inasmuch as the artists employed 
 upon the florid occasionally outrage nature in 
 their conceptio]is. I have, for instance, a specimen
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 187 
 
 of this kind, the pattern of which is intended to 
 represent a rose, a tulip, and a dahlia, tied together. 
 It will hardly be believed that they are designed 
 so large, as only to admit of their occurring three 
 times on the same shirt. Yet such is the fact. 
 The first appears on my chest, the second is situated 
 between my shoulder bones, and I sit down upon 
 the third and last, whenever I take a chair. 
 
 With respect to jewellery, I purchased some 
 time ago a forty guinea watch-guard, but upon its 
 being represented to me by a sensible friend that 
 it was imprudent to carry about an article of such 
 great value, I procured a second at an outlay of 
 three pounds ten, for daily wear, so as to save the 
 other, which I now keep locked up in my case, 
 w^here no possible harm can come to it. My studs, 
 of which I have twelve pair, vary in size and 
 shape from the dog's-head for morning use, to the 
 enamelled serpent of evening costume. With re- 
 gard to my hands, from a desire to follow the 
 prevailing mode in all things, I am not always 
 particular to keep them clean to a nicety; but 
 when I pass them over my face, which I take
 
 188 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 especial care to do every now and then, the spark- 
 ling of the ruby and diamond rings upon my 
 knuckles serves to call away attention from what 
 some carpers would be disposed to call a defect- 
 namely, their dirtiness. 
 
 Over my other habiliments I most commonly 
 wear a thick over-coat with large buttons, each 
 about the size of an old fashioned crown piece; 
 and although I am not, upon the whole, short- 
 sighted, I have of late seen the propriety of carry- 
 ing about an eye-glass, which, while it effectually 
 prevents me from seeing any object clearly, is still 
 of considerable advantage on those occasions, nume- 
 rous enough, when I want to stare at the women. 
 At such times it is wonderful to what an extent the 
 lorgnette will enhance the brilliancy of an eye 
 which, like mine, is already piercing by nature. 
 I have known females, as though in a trance, 
 actually cross over to the other side of the street, 
 under the effect of it. — But I am telling my Cam- 
 bridge readers about the death of Queen Anne. 
 
 My toilet-table, as the great store-house from 
 which all the aids to manly beauty are drawn, it
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 189 
 
 Avill not be proper to leave wholly unnoticed in 
 a description of this kind. It is furnished with 
 a row of bottles, containing scents of divers kinds 
 for my kerchief, and pomatums — or perhaps I 
 should rather say pomata — for my hair. In the 
 centre is my ring-stand, on the right and left my 
 jewel cases, and at divers points are stre^vn 
 brushes, combs, silver-topped soap dishes, and 
 other articles, in luxurious profusion. By the 
 way, some impudent persons have suggested that 
 it would be better for me if I used the waters of 
 Cologne less, and the waters of the Cam more. 
 But the remarks of this class of individuals are 
 wholly unworthy of attention. Billy Kettle, for 
 instance, is constantly scrubbing his hands and 
 face, till you would think that there would not be 
 a finger or a feature left. Go into his bed room 
 at what time you please, you are sure to see that 
 infatuated youth standing over his basin, with his 
 sleeves tucked up, like one of the witches over 
 the cauldron in Macbeth. But cui bono I should 
 like to know? When he has got his hands so 
 delicately clean and white, where are the rings to
 
 190 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 put on them? He positively wears none. Here is 
 a person to talk about social refinement and 
 elegance, and that too to Cantabs of the nineteenth 
 century ! 
 
 I was actually about to conclude, without 
 speaking of my cane, and yet this would have 
 been as bad as to omit the part of Hamlet from 
 the play, or to get up a public dinner without 
 H. R. H. of Cambridge to officiate as chairman. 
 This aforesaid cane is indeed to me, as well as to 
 the majority of my fellow-students, a source of 
 delight which I feel myself wholly incompetent to 
 describe. It serves to rap my booted legs as I 
 walk out, and my teeth, as I sit in anywhere upon 
 a visit. It is equally efficacious to correct the 
 amorous and other excesses of my poodle, as we 
 saunter down the King's parade together, and to 
 poke my friends jocosely in the ribs as we meet 
 upon the lawn of the Plough Inn. The maintain- 
 ing of these canes costs me almost as much as it 
 would to maintain a horse, or a constant succes- 
 sion of umbrellas. As I invariably make a point 
 of never purchasing any ])ut such as have gold
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 191 
 
 heads, losing them as invariably after the second 
 or third day, you may judge what the expense 
 must necessarily be. But this is a mercenary 
 consideration, and as this volume is not designed 
 for the use of such as pay ready money, but solely 
 and exclusively for my Cambridge friends, I regret 
 that I alluded to the circumstance. 
 
 You will therefore, if you are guided by me, at 
 once proceed to purchase a cane, " if indeed you 
 are not already provided with one," as the adver- 
 tiser in the Times says of his St. Leger neckcloths. 
 For although it may be an expensive article to 
 be constantly replacing, especially where a man 
 rejoices in a multitude of good-natured friends, 
 still is it not nobby ? Let that decide you. The 
 sound of that majestic adjective kobby has pre- 
 vailed upon Cantabs to commit a great many more 
 acts, and purchase a great many more articles, 
 than you in your philosophy, might be led to
 
 192 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 Section IL — Of my Method of spending the Day. 
 
 " He who loses an hour in the early part of the 
 morning, will be running after it the whole of the 
 rest of the day." Such is the sage remark of 
 some old author, probably Shakespeare. Now, I 
 make a point of never losing an hour at the time 
 referred to. I am too well employed for that — 
 I am asleep. 
 
 Seeing, however, that by an inscrutable decree 
 of Providence it is rendered, I will not say 
 incumbent upon us, but at all events highly 
 desirable that we should, at one time or another, 
 rise from our beds, I have selected, after due 
 consideration, twelve o'clock as the hour most 
 suited to my convenience in that respect. In the 
 first place, I am not rendered uncomfortable by 
 the prospect of too long a day lying before me; 
 in the second, the sun will have risen to just 
 sufficient height for the morning chills and vapours 
 to be dispelled; and, in the third place, it is the 
 hour adoj)ted by most of my friends for under- 
 going the disagreeable process of burbting from
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 193 
 
 tlieir slumbers. My first act after setting foot 
 upon terra firma^ and forming a hasty toilet, (I call 
 it la petite toilette^ in contradistinction to la grande, 
 which does not occur till by and bye,) is to encase 
 myself in a huge dressing gown of flowery pat- 
 tern, which my too-partial admirers have done me 
 the honor to declare is completely identified with 
 the very idea of my existence. [Certainly, when 
 I have completed my two great works, on Political 
 Economy and the Use of the Globes, I shall cause 
 myself to be painted in this dressing-gown. The 
 poets, Cowper and Gay, you will be pleased to 
 recollect, are always depicted in their night-caps, 
 and our friend and benefactor, Dr. Paley, in his 
 three -cornered hat. But this is neither here nor 
 there.] 
 
 After breakfast it is my custom to read works 
 of a light and improving nature, until the time 
 has arrived for me to dress for my daily walk. 
 This last-named process, or rather sacrifice to the 
 shrine of the graces, generally keeps me occupied 
 for the better part of an hour. After which, my 
 saunter, which I look upon not so much as a 
 s
 
 194 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 means of improving my health, as affording an 
 opportunity of meeting my various friends, of 
 whom I possess an almost indefinite number. 
 Whenever we meet in this way, we ahvays make 
 a point of standing together for some time on the 
 pavement, of which we occupy the greater part, 
 interlarding our conversation with criticisms on 
 the dress and figure of the various passers by, or, 
 if preferred — in case the reader lodges in a large 
 thoroughfare, as I do, — there is a method of 
 spending the intervening hours between breakfast 
 and dinner, which is not wholly disagreeable. It 
 consists in leaning out of the window, and ex- 
 pressing your opinion of every woman that passes, 
 in audible terms. This is a very favorite amuse- 
 ment with young men of the University, and you 
 will be strictly following the fashion in taking to 
 it. I see grounds, however, for recommending 
 a slight change in the usual mode of carrying it 
 on. It is this. — Do not express your opinion, 
 unless it be a favourable one. To hear — " What 
 an ugly woman ! " or perhaps something worse, 
 pronounced by a dozen mouths above her, cannot
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 195 
 
 be anything but unpleasant to the mind of a well- 
 constituted female. But what delicate young lady 
 — one of the reader's sisters, for example, — would 
 object to the expression, " Wliat a slap-up gal ! " 
 or, " Isn't she a stunner?" interchanged amongst 
 each other, at the tops of their voices, by a party 
 of young fellows at the first-floor window. Of 
 coui'se, she cannot object. It is a tribute of ad- 
 miration, and it is not in the nature of woman 
 that she should. 
 
 Notwithstanding the remark which I took occa- 
 sion to make in my paper on the " Fast man," I 
 will at once confess that I am not myself particu- 
 larly partial to a dinner in the hall of my college. 
 Not that my motives are at all similar to those 
 which would appear to keep some persons away ; 
 on the contrary, they are formed upon grounds 
 diametrically opposite to those which I have some- 
 times heard adduced. My opinion is, that the 
 worthy Cook of Trinity charges too little, not too 
 much ; I wonder — not, as some do, that with his 
 opportunities he should have amassed so paltry 
 s 2
 
 196 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 a sum,* — but rather that he has anything at all to 
 call his own. Consider the feelings of a man 
 compelled each day, nolens volens, to furnish five 
 hundred undergraduates with as much beef and 
 mutton as they choose to eat, at the trifling charge 
 of about two shillings a head — (to be sure, vegeta- 
 bles, ale, &c. are extras — but what of that?) 
 consider, I say, the feelings of this man, as he 
 watches joint after joint disappearing from his 
 view, as he hears the distant rattling of knives 
 and forks, and knows that the war of extermina- 
 tion is going on, as waiters dash in j)ale and 
 begravy'd, and the cry is still for 77ioi'e ! When 
 you think of all this, you will do as I do. You 
 wdll give him your ticket, as it were, and keep 
 away. You will not help to rob the poor man, I 
 am sure. When he shall have succeeded in 
 
 * A mere £30,000., I have heard in several quarters. 
 This is what some persons have termed rich ! ! To refute 
 this absurd position, it is needless to remind the reader that 
 many peers, and those too by no means the most wealthy, 
 liave as much — a-yeaii!
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 197 
 
 making his complaints heard, and the College has 
 consented to his charging a remunerating price for 
 his articles, then indeed you may go and dine with 
 a pure conscience. But until then, if you must 
 dine in hall, dine entirely on extras, or " sizings," 
 as we call them. Press not upon that care-worn, 
 grey old man. I use the word " grey," because, 
 though I never set eyes on the Cook himself, the 
 fact was revealed to me in my soup (soup is an 
 extra) the other day. To be sure, on second 
 thoughts, that lock of hair which I so affectionately 
 cherish, may have belonged to one of the sub- 
 ordinates. Well, let us hope that it is so. 
 
 I am aware that, in opposition to this, it may be 
 said, that at a place of learning it is desirable for 
 every thing to be as cheap as possible — that con- 
 sidering the number (five hundi'ed) for whom din- 
 ner is daily provided, beef and mutton might be 
 furnished at a much cheaper rate than two shillings 
 a head, which is the sum usually charged when 
 only five or six persons sit down at a coffee-house 
 to a joint — that an eminent London hotel-keeper 
 has actually declared that he will supply the din- 
 s 3
 
 198 IKE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 ners of Trinity College at ten-pence a head, and 
 still make a handsome profit — that it is the 
 interest of the Authorities to keep up the present 
 high range of profits, because it is of them that 
 the cook rents his j)lace — that some of the articles 
 in the bill of fare are set down at a price which 
 would provoke mirth, if it did not rather call for 
 indignation — that a pair of soles, which in the 
 market might be bought for a shilling, are charged 
 three shillings and sixpence ! — a pair of skinny fowls 
 and a few slices of ham twelve shillings! — that the 
 price of food is that of a besieged town, not a liberal 
 university, etc. etc. etc. All these arguments I have 
 heard at various times; but as a signal proof of 
 their emptiness and falsity, it may be permitted me 
 to remark, that I have invariably triumphed over 
 those who have adduced them. On stigmatizing 
 them as Radicals and innovators; on reminding 
 them that Trinity College is a time-hallowed insti- 
 tution, and not to be rashly meddled with by hands 
 profane ; on appealing to my Bible, and pointing 
 out to them how it prophesies of those who shall 
 " sjDcak evil of dignitaries " — upon adopting this 
 line of reasoning, I have always found that my
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 199 
 
 opponent walked off in silence, a sure indication 
 that he was foiled with his own weapons, and had 
 not got another word to say. 
 
 With regard to my method of " killing time " 
 between four o'clock and six, it would be of course 
 impossible for me to lay down any general rule. 
 Let it suffice, therefore, to say, that it is employed 
 at all events profitably. Sometimes I improve my 
 mind by the noble game of chess, or my eye and 
 hand by the still nobler pastime of billiards. At 
 others, eschewing " wines," I embrace the opportu- 
 nity to sit down, with a few friends, to a pipe and 
 a social glass of whiskey, of which the first steadies 
 and sobers down the mind for the evening service, 
 and the second raises an appetite for the dinner 
 which is to follow. So that you see how amuse- 
 ments, which are sometimes termed trivial and 
 pernicious, may, in the hands of a philosopher, be 
 made subservient to a great end. 
 
 At chapel, rightly judging that, as attendance is 
 made compulsory, it is by no means necessary for 
 us to ape a devotional spirit which we are far from 
 feeling, I make a point of attending very little to
 
 200 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 wliat is going on around me. I rise and sit down, 
 and kneel down, at the appropriate moment for 
 each of those postures, in quite a mechanical way. 
 Provided I have a nice acquaintance beside me to 
 talk with, and the man in the desk gets through 
 the service as expeditiously and with as little noise 
 as possible, I for my part am content; and I believe 
 that this is the case with most of us. So little of 
 truth is there in the remark, that we are disposed 
 to grumble at those spiritual exercises which the 
 wisdom of our superiors has imposed! 
 
 Sometimes indeed, so far from grumbling, I am 
 rather pleased than otherwise at finding myself in 
 the College Chapel. This is the case whenever 
 the extreme fervour, or loud responses, of any 
 " religious " man calls down our mirth, or the 
 presence of a pretty girl in the stalls makes the 
 service pass more quickly than it would perhaps 
 do, without some such adventitious aid. Sometimes 
 even my pocket has benefited by my devotions, for 
 I have made a pretty bet or two in that corner of 
 our sacred edifice which is called by a name un- 
 pronounceable by the godly lip.
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 201 
 
 In all tins, however, I take especial care not to 
 render myself obnoxious to my friend and Dean 
 by imitating the conduct of certain Undergraduates, 
 whom I cannot but consider profane, — pulling each 
 other by the nose — upsetting the forms — letting 
 fall their books purposely with a loud flop, and 
 talking of their love adventures in a loud tone, as 
 they sometimes do. I am glad to say that this 
 school of devotion is gradually going out of date. 
 These wild freaks of our forefathers are silently 
 vanishing before the efforts of a new generation of 
 chapel-goers, whose conduct and demeanour I can- 
 not too highly commend. These last, thrusting 
 their hands deep into their pockets, and screwing 
 up their mouths, from the commencement of the 
 service to its close, assume the appearance of men 
 who desire to bear patiently what they cannot 
 avoid, and endure that without a mui'mur, from 
 which no murmurs, however loud and deep, could 
 procure them an exemption. 
 
 After chapel (which must, at all events, be 
 allowed the merit of giving one an appetite,) 
 I hurry off to the enjoyment of my evening meal.
 
 202 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 Upon this, the most delightful portion of my day, 
 I shall not attempt to enlarge ; suffice it to say, 
 that, like all other Cantabs, I am an admirable 
 judge of wine. 
 
 Dinner being concluded, it is ray custom to 
 listen eagerly for the sound of a harp or violin 
 outside the window. I am acquainted with most 
 of the itinerant musicians, who make our streets 
 melodious at nightfall, as well as ventriloquists, 
 delineators of Irish character, and jovial souls 
 generally. Not unfrequently, I have indulged in 
 a dance together with a select party of friends; 
 but as this species of amusement was most com- 
 monly terminated by a breakage of glasses and 
 decanters, I have proscribed it, at least in my 
 own apartments, where the fun did not appear to 
 me to be after all so very great. 
 
 It may be alleged indeed that the hard-working 
 Johnian above me, and the two men on each side, 
 whose rooms are separated from mine only by 
 a thin partition, (which I have already bored 
 through with gimlets in several places) may not 
 be able to carry on their investigations as well to
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 203 
 
 the sound of the fife and the drum, as "without 
 those accompaniments. This objection has, in 
 reahty, been brought under my notice more than 
 once by conscientious friends. But to this it may 
 be safely replied, that habit is everything ; a bar- 
 rister is as well able to collect his ideas amidst the 
 bustle of a court, as you and I in the solitude of 
 our chambers; a general gives his orders cooly 
 and collectedly, undismayed by the roar of cannon ; 
 despite the snoring of his congregation, a country 
 parson is still found to persevere — and I cannot see, 
 for my part, why the same rule should not be 
 made to apply to the reading men just alluded to. 
 They hear my cornopean and violincello of a 
 morning — (I am just commencing these two in- 
 struments) — they are enlivened by a comic song 
 or two towards chapel time, and by lots of 
 speechifying after dinner. What possible annoy- 
 ance then can they derive from a little mixed 
 concert interspersed with vocal efforts, at a later 
 period of the evening ? Is it not rather reasonable 
 to suppose that they are now so accustomed to 
 noises of various kinds, as to be unable to pursue
 
 204 OTHE MODEL CANTAS. 
 
 tlieir studies without them; and that in case of* 
 a more quiet occupant succeeding me in the pos- 
 session of my rooms, they would either migrate in 
 a body elsewhere, or, giving up reading as a hope- 
 less job, under the altered state of circumstances, 
 plunge at once and head foremost into the waters 
 of the Cam, where the cap and gown of the 
 Johnian, and the hats of the two others, floating 
 on the surface, would reveal their melancholy 
 fate ? Could I pardon myself for such a result ? 
 Never ! No, don't let us even risk it, so, Mr. 
 O'RafFerty, give us The Black Joke, with drum 
 and trumpet accompaniment, if you please ! Mr. 
 Jones, we shall afterwards trouble you for your 
 celebrated entertainment of the Menagerie, intro- 
 ducing imitations of the lion, tiger, and other 
 favorite animals ! Now then, gentlemen, here's 
 a glass of champagne for you — and strike up 1 
 
 Well, with these and other harmless modes of 
 recreation, the evening wears on, till, at about two 
 or three o'clock, I find it almost time to think of 
 retiring to rest. Sleep, however, is out of the 
 question, till I have smoked my last cigar, which
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 205 
 
 I invariably do in bed, with a tumbler of hot 
 brandy and water on a chair beside me, for occa- 
 sional reference. For some time after I came up 
 to the University, I had my fears lest, in indulging 
 myself in this practice, I should run the risk of 
 setting the house on fire. But the discovery of 
 a good means of escape out of the back window, 
 and the reflection that I have nothing valuable to 
 lose, has since happily removed all grounds of 
 alarm on that score. 
 
 As for my prayers, which may be supposed to 
 constitute the last act of my well-spent day, I 
 regret to have to admit that I have of late fallen 
 into the habit of not repeating them at all; an 
 omission which is the more to be deplored, 
 inasmuch as formerly I was extremely regular in the 
 joerformance of this duty, invariably reciting them 
 at the conclusion of my cigar, and hot toddy, 
 when so much was my mind predisposed to the 
 reception of religious impressions, that I have 
 known myself to shed copious tears, and, on more 
 than one occasion, went off to sleep; a result 
 which is known to be often brought about by
 
 206 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 excessive mental emotion. This then is the day 
 of the Model Man. If you deem the individual 
 who spends it in this, or a somewhat similar 
 manner, to be unworthy of your acquaintance, 
 you had better issue cards of invitation to about 
 three-fourths of your friends, give them a farewell 
 dinner, with hock and champagne, and rising, after 
 the cloth has been removed, inform them in a neat 
 speech, that you are extremely sorry but that 
 you feel yourself bound — to cut them for ever ! 
 
 Section III. — Of my Mental Culture and Course 
 OF Reading. 
 
 Trifling and twaddling as this work is no doubt 
 found to be, (in the opinion of every one except 
 its author,) we are now approaching a part of it 
 to which I must beg to call your most particular 
 attention. 
 
 In short, I have a few words to say upon that 
 especial mode of mental culture which, from its 
 having proved so entirely successful in my own 
 case, I have been induced to recommend to you. 
 At the same time, I would have you to understand
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 207 
 
 that I do not set up for a quack ; I neither profess 
 to turn you out wise, and learned, and good, in so 
 many lessons, nor do 1 lay out my recipes for sale, 
 (if we except the sum that you have paid for this 
 book — by the bye, I hope you have paid for it!), 
 so that what I am now going to say, must be set 
 down entirely to the score of a pure and enlightened 
 philanthropy. 
 
 That there is a pleasure to be derived from the 
 pursuit of literature, is a truth which the bulk of 
 mankind seem rather disposed to take for granted 
 at the lips of philosophers, than to learn by actual 
 experience. Nor is it by any means uncommon 
 to hear a person of considerable natural talent 
 lament his want of information upon certain ordi- 
 nary topics, a tolerable insight into which he might 
 acquire, with but comparatively little trouble to 
 himself. The reason of this apparent inconsistency 
 is obvious enough. Our first approaches to learn- 
 ing have been rendered so ragged and tangled in 
 our school- days, that we are unwilling to pursue 
 any longer a path of which it seems that we shall 
 never surmount the difficulties ; a paradise, green 
 T 2
 
 208 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 and flourishing, lies before us, if we will only per- 
 severe; but the shades of Achilles, and Ajax, and 
 Epaminondas, terrible names, that we were wont 
 to parse and scan beneath the magic influence of 
 the cane, stand there like the angel with the flaming 
 sword, to p)revent an ingress, and drive us back 
 again, sick at heart and disgusted with the result 
 of our puny efforts. Pardon me the use of this 
 metaphor, but confess — Is not the case as I have 
 stated it? With what feelings are the most beau- 
 tiful descriptions of the ancients associated in your 
 mind? Do you enter, I should wish to know, 
 more deeply into the arguments of Cicero, from 
 the fact of some of them, and those too the most 
 lucid and beautiful, having been communicated to 
 you a posteriori; or is your keen perception of 
 Homer heightened by the recollection of having 
 had to learn such and such a passage, in a dingy 
 school- room, of a fine summer's afternoon, when 
 you wept hot tears over the old, blotted, dog's- 
 eared book, as you heard the boys outside roaring 
 at their play. 
 
 I remember licaring a story of a classical old
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 209 
 
 gentleman, who owned some land close to the sea- 
 side. This land, for some reason or other, he did 
 not wish to be trespassed upon; yet, despite all 
 the innocent fictions of steel traps and spring guns 
 which he adopted, it continued, greatly to his 
 annoyance, to be infested by vagrants of every 
 description. At length he hit upon the expedient 
 of setting up a board with these words written 
 upon it in large letters — " beware of the ttoXv- 
 (jiXoLaf^oLo Oa\a(rcn]<Sj^ which inscription — from its 
 mysterious natui'e, and the dreadful imcertainty 
 which attached to the thing of which they were told to 
 beware — so worked upon the minds of the vulgar, 
 that trespass on that particular sUp of ground be- 
 came unknown, and the old gentleman lived un- 
 troubled \vith vagrants during the whole of the 
 rest of his existence. 
 
 Now, I believe that there is a deeper moral 
 contained in this little anecdote than you might at 
 first sight be led to suppose. Not only the vaga- 
 bonds on the sea-side, but thousands of respectable 
 and amiable men, have been driven back from the 
 path which they were pursuing, by a like inscrip- 
 T 3
 
 210 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 tion — not actually painted upon a board before 
 tliem, but deeply impressed on their minds, — ■ 
 " Be\Yare of the TroXv^Aoto-jSoto ^aXao-crr;?//" — 
 Those identical words drove me out of the Iliad, 
 some time since, when I took it up to see whether 
 I could not read it, and feel interested, just as at 
 any other book. At the sight of that tremendous 
 expression, the Greeks — their tents — the weeping 
 old priest — Apollo walking along the summit of 
 Olympus — everything in fact vanished from before 
 me, and I was standing once more in a corner of 
 the school- room, with a paper cap on my head — 
 the terrible old pedagogue was walking up to me 
 as of yore, with a cane in his hand and a rap 
 on the knuckles for every syllable, as he repeated 
 his pressing enquiry " And now, Sir, what is 
 7ro\—v-<f>\oL(r— jSoL—o — Oa—Xacr—'XR^? ' Great 
 Heavens! I feel my knuckles tingle now! 
 
 But if my success with Homer is small, in the case 
 of Virgil I fare still worse. There the very first line 
 on the very first page scares me away. It is 
 equivalent to a " no TiiOKOUGiif are " a2)plying to 
 the whole work, and denying me entrance. I
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 211 
 
 remember being called upon to construe that 
 odious line, " Tityre tu 2:>atul(e recuhans sub tegmine 
 facji^'^ which in my youthful ignorance I rendered 
 " Thou, O Tityrus, reclining under the shade of a 
 wide-spreading birch," using the word " birch" by 
 an irresistible attraction, as I suppose, instead of 
 " beech." But my mistake cost me dear, as was 
 soon proved by my venerable preceptor exclaiming 
 " Very well. Smith ! I shall now proceed to place 
 you in the same situation as Tityrus ; you shall be 
 put beneath the shade of a wide-spreading birch." 
 Why say more? I was led to the block — the 
 victim of a bad pun. But murk the result! That 
 block will be to me through life an effectual 
 stumbling-block in the way of reading Virgil. 
 
 I could point to a hundred passages of this kind 
 — landmarks still left behind, how that the vast 
 ocean of classical knowledge with which I was 
 deluged in my childhood, has entirely passed away 
 — I could point to a hundred such passages, which 
 stare me in the face every time I open a Greek or Latin 
 book. But, fortunately, no proof whatever is needed
 
 212 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 of the truth of my assertion, viz. That our first 
 advances in the path of learning are made too 
 arduous for us to be likely to persevere, when once 
 the taskmaster with his thong shall have been 
 removed, and we have it at our own option, to go 
 forward or to stand still. If such proof were 
 needed, I could quote the complaint of many a 
 promising youth, whose faculties have been nipped 
 in the bud by a too sharp setting- in of scholastic 
 frost. " Hang it, Smith ! I know I ought to be 
 reading something — but somehow I can't.'' Half 
 the Undergraduates in the University are of this 
 number. I am one of the number myself. My 
 energies were wasted at school — at Salamanca 
 House School, under the Reverend Dr. Hicks, 
 a fiery Orbilius with a stiff white neckcloth; 
 who, I remember, used to come into the school- 
 room to thank Providence in a long and elabo- 
 rate grace, once a day, for giving us boys such 
 a good dinner, before adjourning to the parlour 
 to eat his own; and who walked about the play- 
 ground, comparing himself to Cincinnatus, and
 
 THE MODEL CAXTAB. 213 
 
 picking the radishes out of the boys' gardens, to 
 take in for his own tea. There it was that 
 my energies were wasted. I stand before you a 
 pumped-out man — pumped out of everything, at 
 least, but the milk of human kindness ; of which, 
 I hope to convince you that I have yet a few 
 drops remaining, by the disinterested advice which 
 I am about to offer. 
 
 Of all the Undergraduates of this University, 
 I am decidedly the one who has acquired the 
 greatest reputation for proficiency in polite litera- 
 ture. Particular branches, such as mathematics, 
 for example, or the dead languages, may be culti- 
 vated by other students with greater success, but 
 in general information it has been allowed by most 
 men that I stand without a rival. I am, in fact, 
 what is commonly called "a general reader." If 
 you were to ask a member of Trinity College who 
 was the most promising mathematician of his 
 acquaintance, he would answer — Watson ; if your 
 question referred to classics, the reply would un- 
 doubtedly be — Whympeb; but supposing after
 
 214 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 these two you put a third query, and demanded to 
 know whether there were any young man of signal 
 abilities at present in Cambridge — not, perhaps, 
 strictly devoting his attention to subjects included 
 in the University course, but promising iji other 
 things — the answer would in that case at once be 
 — Smth, of Smith Hall. 
 
 How I acquired this reputation, I will at once 
 proceed to explain to you; and permit me to re- 
 mark, by the way, that the eminence which one 
 man has attained to, another may hope to reach. 
 At all events, though I be a shining and no-wise 
 approachable star, you will shoot higher, by aiming 
 at me, than by sending your arrows in despair 
 along the ground. 
 
 When, upon my first arrival at this University, 
 I was released from the absolute necessity of 
 studying classical and mathematical works, I soon 
 became convinced that the subjects of which they 
 treat were useless, and worse than useless. I 
 found that, so long as I had the money, I could 
 always procure a suit of clothes, without having 
 to address my tailor as Mwixxr/s, with the real
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 215 
 
 Athenian accent ; that it was no kind of inconve- 
 nience to me not to know the Latin for a sausage, 
 when I went into a shop with the intention of 
 purchasing one. Under these circumstances, I 
 determined to betake myself to some course of 
 readino; which should be at the same time more 
 agreeable to my feelings, and more likely to be of 
 service in after life. But what to select? Ay! 
 there was the rub. 
 
 The whole of the Waverley Novels I had read 
 at school. Of Biilwer I had no experience (except 
 one very beautiful novel, " Paul Clifford," which 
 we devoured on the sly), the head usher having 
 declared them immoral, and prohibited their intro- 
 duction in consequence. He was well qualified to 
 judge ; and I am quite confident it was from no cur- 
 sory perusal of theu' contents that he was induced 
 to form his opinion. Of the works of James too, I 
 was acquainted with but a very small portion- 
 perhaps not above thirty volumes on the whole. 
 Fielding, Smollett, Eichardson, Edgeworth, Mar- 
 ryatt, and Disraeli, were quite unknown to me; so 
 that, in case of my taking up this line, I had at all
 
 216 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 events a very fine field before me, in which to carry 
 on my operations. 
 
 While I yet remained undecided, the thought 
 very forcibly struck me that as I intended going 
 to the bar, all kinds of knowledge would be useful, 
 and especially that which is to be derived from 
 novels. How could I cross-examine in a case of 
 breach of promise, for instance, without some con- 
 ception of the leading principles of love? How 
 could I succeed in putting a jury into good humour 
 by my jokes, unless I had first read my DicivENS? 
 Or acquire a good sound practical acquaintance 
 with vice, (in order to be able the better to expose 
 it,) unless I had perused a few French romances? 
 Or ever hope to become an eloquent and polished 
 speaker, without first studying the soliloquies of 
 BuLWER? The time would fail me in multiplying 
 the instances of benefit accruing from individual 
 works of fiction. Ten Thousand a Year will fur- 
 nish you with a knowledge of the law of descent; 
 Coningshy with a knowledge of politics; Mrs. 
 GorCj of fashionable life; Captain Marrijatt, of 
 shipping (highly serviceable at the bar) ; and so
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 217 
 
 on. There is, in fact, no romance or tale from 
 which a man does not rise with his faculties 
 sharpened in some way or another, and it must be 
 confessed that they are, most of them, very easy 
 reading. 
 
 Influenced by these considerations, I commenced 
 with a little light skirmishing amongst the works 
 of Albert Smith, Eugene Sue, and Reynolds, pro- 
 ceeding afterwards without delay to attack my 
 James. 
 
 Jajies is to the aspiring novel-reader what the 
 Differential Calculus is to the Mathematician; the 
 Law of Eeal Property to the Barrister; the 
 Speeches of Thucydides to the Candidate for the 
 Classical Tripos; and those of Mr. Chisholni 
 Anstey to the Reporters in the House of Commons. 
 It is hard work while it lasts, but once over, and 
 you know that the worst is left behind. Hence- 
 forth, all is plain and easy sailing. Let the student 
 once carefully get through his James, and I should 
 not be surprised if he managed to read Mr. Lester's 
 late publication on the British Poets, or the " Man 
 n the Moon," These, however, are extreme cases. 
 u
 
 218 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 At the conclusion of James (still following the 
 plan which I myself adopted with such good 
 results) the student will do well to commence his 
 regular course with the fathers of English fiction. 
 De Foe and Richardson you may pass over for the 
 present; for, notwitstanding the high commenda- 
 tion passed by Dr. Johnson upon the morality of 
 the latter, I am not such a Goth as to suppose that 
 morality should go for anything, in a work where 
 we very reasonably look for nothing but amuse- 
 ment. In such a case, Morality is found to be, if 
 not a disagreeable intruder, at all events an indi- 
 vidual whom we don't particularly care about 
 meeting in such an out of the way place. Upon 
 these grounds, I cannot too highly recommend the 
 novels of Fielding and Smollett, where this dis- 
 agreeable interloper will not be present to mar our 
 enjoyment. Especially, let me direct your attention 
 to the conversation of Joseph Andrews with his 
 mistress; the account of Booth's incarceration in 
 the Fleet Prison, as given in that touching fiction 
 "Amelia"; the Adventures of a Lady of Quality, 
 in " Peregrine Pickle" ; and the interview between
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 219 
 
 Tom Jones and Molly Seagrim in the copse, as 
 correct portraits of the manners of our great- 
 grandfathers and their ladies. If you rise from 
 a perusal of these works with anything like the 
 proud feeling about your ancestry with which you 
 sat down to them, either I am much mistaken, or 
 you are no better than you should be. And thus 
 you perceive how another very great result may 
 be brought about, by a comparatively trifling out- 
 lay of thought and labour. 
 
 After Fielding and Smollett, you will have 
 your choice between Lewis's Monk, a novel very 
 deservedly popular at the commencement of the 
 present century, and the Tales of Paul de Kock 
 and Balzac, which enjoy a high reputation at this 
 moment. The latter are perhaps preferable, as 
 giving you an insight into the makers of existing 
 Frenchmen, but the former is also a work of great 
 imagination and beauty. There are, besides, the 
 Mysteries of several cities, which you will do well 
 to look into at the earliest opportunity — the Mys- 
 teries of London, by Reynolds — the Mysteries of 
 Paris, by Sue — of Vienna, Madrid, Stockholm,
 
 220 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 and Berlin, by various authors. There are also 
 the Mysteries of St. Petersburgh, and Baden-Baden, 
 advertised to be shortly cleared up ; but of course 
 it is impossible to speak of any but such as have 
 been already brought to light, and of these it is 
 sufficient to say that they are chaste, elegant, and 
 entertaining. Independently of which , there is the 
 whole range of modern fiction open to you. The 
 conflicting statements set forth in these great 
 masterpieces of the human mind, will furnish you 
 with a perpetual means" of exercising your own 
 faculties in a healthful and agreeable way. For 
 instance, you will see in Ten Thousand a Year 
 how none but Tories can be good and wise men 
 and every Whig is by nature a fool and a vaga- 
 bond, a truth which will not be so vividly im- 
 pressed on your mind when you have read some 
 of the works of Keynolds ; in Pelham you will be 
 given to understand that none but the fashionable 
 and the handsome can be truly happy, whereas in 
 Vanity Fair you will learn a lesson of an entirely 
 opposite character. You will not fail to perceive 
 how useful it will be to you to unpick the argu-
 
 THE MODEL CANTAB. 221 
 
 ments by which these various conclusions are 
 established, and build up, upon the fragments, 
 a firm and well-established system of your own. 
 
 In a word, by pursuing a course of light 
 reading, I have arrived at the reputation which I 
 at present possess, viz.; that of being the best 
 informed man in the University. I have scraps of 
 knowledge on almost every point, scraps of history, 
 of biography, of politics, of science, and being 
 careful to dispose them to the view as much as 
 possible, they appear, though trifling in themselves, 
 to be but as specimens out of some great store- 
 house Avithin, from which I could draw forth 
 unlimited quantities of the article, if I felt so 
 disposed. There are so few Cantabs who have 
 read deeply enough to detect a superficial man, that 
 tl hink a smattering of various subjects to be the 
 legitimate object of your efforts, since it costs but 
 little trouble to acquire, and carries with it the 
 same reputation as Profundity. 
 
 But I have not a moment to lose. This chapter 
 must be cut short at least twenty pages before 
 I intended that it should come to an end. in ordei
 
 222 THE MODEL CANTAB. 
 
 to admit of its being sent by the steamer. I hear 
 the bell ringing at this moment. One quarter of 
 an hour more, and it is gone. 
 
 May I then, before taking a final farewell, be 
 permitted to express a hope that my friends at 
 Cambridge will purchase a few copies of this 
 invaluable little treatise. Though the produce of 
 its sale will not be perhaps sufficient to pay off all 
 my debts, yet will a little timely assistance enable 
 me to procure a box of cigars, and a bottle or two 
 of champagne, luxuries which, coming as I do 
 from an English University, I terribly grudge 
 paying ready money for, in this out of the way 
 place. But here there is no trusting — except in 
 Providence; and very little of that, I am sorry 
 to say. 
 
 In conclusion, the Model Undergraduate pulls 
 off his hat, (white with black crape round it) and, 
 waving to you his scented and jewelled hand, 
 wishes you — Adieu ! 
 
 Boulogne-sur-Mer. 
 October ist, 1840.
 
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